


Defenders Without Fear V2

by Dan_Francisco



Series: Long War Slog [2]
Category: Call of Duty (Video Games), Overwatch (Video Game), RWBY, Stargate SG-1, Team Fortress 2, XCOM (Video Games) & Related Fandoms
Genre: Action/Adventure, Aliens, Bisexual Female Character, Bisexual Male Character, Canon Divergent, Crossover, Drama, Enemies to Lovers, F/M, Gen, Half-Happy Ending, Portal Fantasy, War
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-26
Updated: 2019-07-26
Packaged: 2020-07-20 06:30:22
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 88,633
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19987660
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Dan_Francisco/pseuds/Dan_Francisco
Summary: Two months. It's just long enough for Weiss and Yang to readjust back to life on Remnant. They thought it was over – fighting on Earth, aliens, intergalactic war. Back together with their friends, they think they can focus back on defeating Salem.They should have known better.The sudden appearance of Bradford can only mean one thing. The war has followed them home. With Salem plotting daily, the question becomes less “who will see the end of the war” and more “will they win the war at all?”





	1. Friends On the Other Side

It had been a while since they left Earth. Yang and Weiss had returned to the familiar embrace of their friends and family, back to the familiar war they knew. Back here, things made a bit more sense. Sure, their fight against Salem had a far longer road than the one they had just fought against ADVENT, but at least Salem was out of surprises to bring out.

Initially, Weiss had just wanted to hit the ground running, go ahead and get back on their plan, but Ozpin had vetoed it, said he wanted to remain in Mistral for a little while longer. And so, RWBY and what remained of JNPR settled in, waiting for the status quo to change. There wasn't much to really do other than wait, train and avoid any Dust experiments that would bring her back to Earth. But, sometimes privately, Yang and Weiss would reminisce about fighting on Earth, fighting with so many people it started to become hard to keep track of them all.

Nearly two months had passed with no change, until one day Qrow told them something strange was going on just beyond Mistral's forests. Ozpin had asked him and RWBY to head out, to see what was happening. Weiss was glad to see herself out of the building they had cooped themselves in all this time. Anything to get away from what was quickly becoming a monotonous life.

Unusual for this time of year, there were no Grimm roaming around Mistral's forests. Some birds could be heard, singing their usual songs, but aside from that the land was quiet. It was a peace and quiet Weiss was unused to, and had grown to fear. Quiet almost always meant trouble around the corner on Earth, but she couldn't remember if that held true for Remnant.

“So, what's the weird stuff Ozpin said was going on?” Yang asked, scanning the trees.

“Not sure,” Qrow answered. “Some kind of explosion or something. Keep an eye out.”

Yang glanced back at Weiss, a concerned look on her face. Ruby and Blake didn't seem to be too concerned, but why would they? They didn't have any idea what this implied. Explosions just didn't randomly happen out in the middle of Mistral's forests, not unless someone was fighting a Grimm. Given there weren't even any around, that seemed unlikely at best.

The trees gave way to a clearing. A massive black mark was on the ground, in a wide circle that had demolished the grass outright. Even from where she was, Weiss could see someone – or some _thing_ – had dragged itself from the epicenter of the black mark across the grass. Qrow gave the word to spread out and look for clues, figure out what had happened here. Weiss headed off to the left, Ruby following close behind. She began tracking the drag marks, trying to see if her suspicions were right.

“I found something!” Weiss yelled, sighing as she neared her worst fears.

Central Officer Bradford was here, on Remnant, unconscious.

* * *

Yang and Weiss remained silent as Qrow and Ozpin ruminated on what to do with their unexpected guest. They had placed him on one of their couches, Nora providing him with a pillow and blanket just in case. They all gathered around him, wondering who he was any what had happened.

“How long you figure 'till he wakes up?” Qrow asked, his hands shoved in his pockets.

“It's hard to say, Ozpin said. “Could be days, could be longer.”

“If only we had his name,” Ruby said. “Then we could try to find his family.”

Weiss saw Yang swallow, tilting her head down sadly. “He doesn't have one. His name is John Bradford.”

Immediately, all eyes turned on Yang. Qrow cocked an eyebrow at her, confused. “And how do _you_ know that?”

“Because…. well, we know him,” Weiss admitted.

Ozpin tilted his head to the side. “Miss Schnee, Miss Xiao Long, you're going to have to explain this to us.”

Yang turned to Weiss, shrugging her shoulders. “They gotta know, Weiss.”

“I know.”

“What do we have to know?” Blake asked, quickly becoming suspicious.

Yang sighed, folding her arms. “So… we weren't really being all that truthful with you guys when we said we got lost. What _really_ happened was we got…. I dunno, teleported? Is that what they called it?”

Weiss looked up from the floor, seeing the confused and worried looks on her friend's faces. _God, they must think we're insane._ “Transported is the term they used. We were trapped in another dimension, on another planet.”

“Fascinating…” Ozpin muttered.

“They basically conscripted us into their war,” Yang said, shifting her weight nervously. “We fought some… _really_ fucked up things. I…I don’t really know how to explain it.”

“It was only about two weeks here on Remnant,” Weiss explained. “But there, it was three years.”

Qrow scoffed, taking a swig of alcohol as he listened to them. “You expect us to believe that?”

“Time worked differently there,” Weiss replied, shrugging. “I don’t think even _they_ understood it.”

Weiss looked at her friends, seeing each one with the same level of disbelief on their face. Poor Ruby, she looked like her entire worldview had been shattered. Blake had begun rubbing her temple, trying to make sense of it all. Nora and Jaune both stood there slack-jawed, while Ren’s face swapped between confused and trying to find logic in the entire ordeal. Qrow seemed as stoic as ever, while Ozpin scratched his chin, deep in thought.

“So,” Ozpin finally said. “You say you fought with this gentleman on another planet, or dimension. What does it mean that he’s _here?”_

Yang looked to Weiss, and she shrugged. Yang shrugged as well, shaking her head. “Either something’s gone really wrong, or something weird’s going on.”

“Three years fighting with the guy, and no clue why he’d be here,” Qrow said, rolling his eyes. “Yeah, great intel, guys.”

“What do you _want_ us to say?” Yang asked. “That we have everything from his fucking diary committed to memory? It’s not like we talked to Bradford _personally_ all the damn time.”

“Well,” Ozpin said, stepping in between Qrow and Yang. “I don’t believe we’ll glean much more information from an unconscious man. All we can do now is hope he wakes up.”

Weiss sighed, looking over Bradford. He seemed almost peaceful, _content_ even. This might have been the only good rest he had ever gotten in a long long time.

With team RWBY, Ozpin, Qrow, and what remained of JNPR watching intensely, Bradford woke up three days later. It was a sudden, violent awakening. Upon regaining consciousness, Bradford reached for a pistol that wasn’t there, searching for potential targets and enemies. He visibly relaxed once he saw Weiss and Yang, however.

“So, it worked then,” Bradford muttered. “Son of a bitch, Carter was right.”

“Something tells me you aren’t here for a social visit,” Yang said, frowning.

He gave a hollow, empty laugh, falling back on the couch. “No. Earth is… well, gone, for lack of a better word.”

“Oh my God,” Weiss whispered, putting a hand to her face. “What… what happened, sir?”

Bradford looked around the room, taking note of Weiss and Yang’s family and friends. “Can they be trusted?” he asked, jerking his head towards them.

“Yeah,” Yang said, nodding solemnly. “They’re good people.”

He sighed heavily, his face wrought with what must have been a long and hard fight prior to escaping to Remnant. Weiss could already see a handful of new scars on his face, including a massive one just above his earlobe. “Well, about two years after you left, the aliens came back in force. They didn’t want to occupy, they just wanted to kill. Had to abandon the _Avenger_ , the Psionic Gate was our only way out. We… we knew Remnant was safe to travel to, after all we had sent you two through it.”

“Hold on a second,” Qrow said, stepping forward as he shoved his hands in his pockets. “You mean there’s more of you on the way?”

“How many?” Weiss asked.

“Well… we lost a lot just defending the _Avenger_. If everyone made it through who I think did…we’re looking at about seventeen others, not including myself.”

Weiss felt her eyes well up with tears as Yang let out an exhausted sigh, turning away. Was she trying to hide tears? Maybe. “Who’s left?” Yang dared to ask.

Bradford sighed again. “Most of Misfit is still up. Bravo 1-5’s mostly around. Shen, Tygan, the Commander, they’re all through, hopefully.”

Well, at least Commander Okorie was safe, along with Price’s squad. “Who else?” Weiss asked, wondering if anyone from Menace had made it through.

“General O’Neill managed to make it in, I think. O’Deorain’s still kicking.”

 _“What?!”_ Yang demanded, her sadness just as quickly replaced with anger. “That _bitch_ is still around?!”

“W-What about Menace?”

He paused. _Oh no._ “I… Captain Rex gave his life alongside Major Carter, making sure we got out. I saw them fighting the aliens just before I went through, and…”

Yang groaned, storming away to the confusion of just about everyone else there. Bradford quickly explained to the others that Captain Rex had been Weiss and Yang’s commanding officer during their time there. None of it made _sense_ to Weiss. Why would the aliens come back?

“Well, as sad as your story is,” Qrow said, “wish we could help. Unfortunately, we got our own problems, so if you’re good to go-”

“I don’t think you understand,” Bradford replied. “The aliens came for Earth because we dared to defy them and win. They’re going to track us, and it’s just a matter of time before they figure out where we are. This planet, all of _you,_ are under threat.”

Qrow shrugged, taking another swig of alcohol. “Sounds like a _you_ problem. Why not just make another one of your teleporters and go somewhere else?”

“It’s not that simple, we didn’t get our resources to build the Psionic Gate out of a Cracker Jack box,” Bradford shot back.

“Out of a _what?”_ Qrow asked.

Ruby stepped forward, her brow furrowed. “Well, wait, these are still _people._ They’re gonna be lost and confused out there. We can’t just leave them!”

“Yeah,” Jaune chimed in. “I mean, they would do the same for us if we were there, right?”

“They _did,”_ Yang said, still facing away from the group. “They didn’t have to help us get home, but they did anyway.”

“We have our own problems,” Blake said. “We don’t have the luxury of time! We need to keep moving forward.”

Bradford shakily stood up, still recovering from the effects of being knocked out. “Whether you like it or not, the aliens are coming, and they won’t care if you’re ready. You _need_ us if you want this planet to survive.”

“Maybe we could split up,” Ren suggested. “Cover more ground that way.”

“No,” Ruby said, strongly shaking her head. “We’re not abandoning each other again.”

“I can get you names and descriptions,” Bradford offered. “I have a pretty good idea who made it through, and if that’s somehow not complete…well, something tells me we’ll figure out who else made it pretty quick.”

Yang looked back at the team, shrugging and facing her palms up, almost challenging them to take it. Their reluctance just didn’t make sense to Weiss – why _not_ get all the help they can get against Salem? And if the aliens were on their way too…well, that just made finding XCOM all the more imperative. Ozpin nodded, asking Bradford to do what he could and disappearing alongside Qrow, which only left RWBY, Jaune, Ren and Nora in the living room with Bradford.

“So,” Weiss found herself asking, probably against her better judgment. “Captain Rex is really gone, huh?”

Bradford sighed, a long, weary one that old her he had been carrying this weight ever since they evacuated the _Avenger._ “He is. I’m sorry, Schnee. Captain Rex fought bravely to make sure we got here.”

Weiss swallowed, trying to hold back tears. God, it had been months since then. She should have been able to move on. Part of her had always accepted that she would never have seen Captain Rex again, but…facing the reality of it was another thing altogether. “Can…can I ask how it happened?”

He cocked an eye at her, before pursing his lips. “Major Carter was keeping the Gate open. A lot of us had already been killed, or made it through. She… she wanted to make sure the rest of us made it, and Captain Rex was trying to get her to go with us. Said it didn’t make sense for her to die there too. I went through the gate right as Rex started shooting again. I… both of them got hit at the same time.”

“So… he died fighting,” Weiss concluded. “I see. Thank you, Bradford.”

“He died fighting to make sure we got through,” Bradford said. “Let’s not waste his sacrifice.”

* * *

RWBY’s first task was to find the remnants of Misfit 1-3; First Sergeant Killip, Hannah, and Micheal Dudley. RWBY themselves had been handed a small collection of dossiers, mostly relating to Misfit, but also tasked with finding Freeman, Moira, and possibly General O’Neill. Though, Bradford had stressed upon all of them that if they got a lead on somebody, it was better to abandon whatever they had on hand and go after them.

He also emphasized that it was likely most of those who had come through, such as Freeman and Killip, wouldn’t be entirely reasonable upon landing in Remnant. Caution had to be exercised. After all, who knew what someone like Killip would do if he thought he had no way other than out. Thankfully, tracking him was easy. Killip and Misfit in general made no real effort to hide. RWBY followed Misfit’s path to an otherwise lovely road, with no indication of where down the line they’d find him. Yang had to give him credit, Killip had found a prime ambush spot.

“So, this Killip,” Blake asked, watching the trees for any potential threats. “What should we know?”

“Completely insane,” Weiss answered. “He doesn’t know what logic or reason is anymore.”

“Yeah, Ruby, when we come across him, I want you to hang back, alright? He sees red, he thinks it’s an alien and I don’t want you to get caught in the crossfire,” Yang warned, turning to look at Ruby. She immediately got a confused look on her face, her silver eyes trying to reckon staying back with her role of leadership.

“Are you sure? I mean, it can’t be that bad, can it?”

“It’s for the best,” Weiss explained.

Blake scoffed, rolling her eyes as she began to disregard the trees as a threat. “Is all this really necessary? It’s three people, surely we can take them on if we have to.”

“We _won’t,_ ” Yang said harshly. “They’re good people. We need their help.”

“If you say so.”

A little further down the road, they came across a pair of rocks on both sides, right when the trees began to disappear and lead to an open clearing. Yang could already hear movement coming from behind the rocks. Someone had to be there, but was it Grimm or Misfit?

“Stop where you are!” a familiar voice yelled. Killip. “We have you surrounded, at least from this side!”

“Let me take the lead on this,” Yang said, gesturing for Blake and Ruby to hang back. She took a deep breath, daring to step closer to the rocks with her hands up. “First Sergeant! It’s me, Yang! Remember?”

From behind the right-side rocks, Killip’s blue helmet popped out. He tilted it up away from his eyes, immediately cracking a smile as he saw Yang. “Hahaha, Private Yung! Damn good to see you!” He stepped out, gesturing for Hannah and Dudley to follow. “Come on out, men, all clear.”

“Well, that was easy,” Blake said, arching an eyebrow.

“Who’s all this with you?” Killip asked, casting a critical eye over RWBY. “No aliens, I hope.”

Weiss laughed, shaking her head. “No sir, no aliens here. These are our teammates.”

He narrowed his eyes at Ruby, pointing one of his fingers at her. “Even this _red team bastard_ here?”

“W-who, me?” Ruby asked, positively shaking in her boots. Why _wouldn’t_ she be scared? Hell, Yang had been freaked out by Killip when she first met him.

Yang stepped in between the two, just in case Killip decided to start shooting. “Sir, that’s my sister.”

“Oh, that’s right!” Killip exclaimed, smiling like he had forgotten his keys. “Good to meet you, Ying’s sister!”

“Yo, so other than us, who da hell’s left?” Dudley asked, resting his rifle on his shoulder. “Can’t be just us, right?”

Weiss retrieved her collection of dossiers from her bag, sorting through them. She could cross at least a few off now that they had recovered Misfit, thankfully. “By my count, at least fifteen others. I’m sure you’re aware Commander Okorie is one of them.”

Micheal nodded, staring off into the distance. “Yeah, makes sense. Cool, well, where’s da rendezvous?”

“We’ll take you there,” Yang said. “We’ve got to find Moira, Freeman and maybe General O’Neill first.”

“We’re really going to keep a group this big?” Hannah asked, shifting her weight around. “It was hard enough keeping low with just the three of us.”

Blake folded her arms, shrugging. “We can handle anyone trying to come our way.”

“Aliens aren’t here yet,” Yang explained. “We’ve got some time.”

“Yang,” Weiss said, gesturing to Misfit’s weapons. “Don’t you think it would be appropriate to give them a little bit of an appraisal of Remnant?”

Nodding, Yang folded her arms, shifting her weight to the side. “Alright, so, bad news, I’m not sure if your guys’ weapons are going to work here. Good news, if we come across anything, you got us to back you up!”

“Well, shit,” Micheal said, rolling his shoulders. “What’s there t’ worry about if da aliens ain’t here?”

“Grimm, for one,” Blake said. “Salem and her followers for another. Can we keep moving, please?”

* * *

The path to finding Freeman proved easy as well. Traveling merchants and groups of people moving from town to town reported a man wearing orange, hiding under a bridge and declaring himself to be the “troll king”. Usually, he demanded “tribute” in the form of money and a cell phone. According to the few who obliged his requests, he was never happy with lien, but Scrolls seemed to satisfy his curiosity at least for a while. Supposedly, Freeman warned of “grave consequences” should his demands not be met, with nothing ever coming of the empty threats.

“So, who wants to go talk to him?” Blake asked, staring at the bridge Freeman was hiding under.

“Rock paper scissors for it?” Yang suggested.

“Oh my God,” Weiss said, rolling her eyes as she walked forward. “Freeman! We know you’re there! Come on out!”

Nothing. Absolute silence from the bridge. The air hung still, at least until the sound of grass and leaves rustling together could be heard. A few seconds later, Freeman burst out from behind the bridge, dramatically throwing a handful of leaves in the air. _“All bow before the_ _Great Troll King of Canada!”_ he yelled. _“Giveth me a tithe, preferably gold and a cell phone, or perish by my hand, ye –_ wait, it’s Misfit. And…. you guys. What the hell?”

“Come on. The aliens are on their way here, so we’re going to stop them,” Yang said, waving him over to the group.

“Eh, alright, sure,” Freeman said, shrugging as he clawed his way out of the ditch. “Anything beats hanging around here. Hey, do any of you have a cell phone? I wanna call Eddie and see if he can hook me up.”

Weiss rolled her eyes, sighing in disgust. Two targets down, potentially two more to go.

“Eddie’s not _here,_ you know,” Yang said. “He can’t hook you up with anything.”

“Look, I’ll be honest, there’s _probably_ someone on this planet named Eddie,” Freeman retorted, a smug smirk crossing his face. “But, this alien planet’s a lot cooler than the last one I went to. It was just a bunch of floating rocks in space. That’s not fun. Why couldn’t I have gone _here_ instead?”

“Is he always like this?” Blake asked, already exasperated. Weiss and Yang only nodded in response.

* * *

“So, tell me about this Moira,” Blake said, flipping through her dossier.

Immediately, Yang groaned, flopping over on a couch rather dramatically. “Total _bitch_ is what she is. If I had my way, we wouldn’t even bother with her.”

“What? Why?” Blake frowned, looking over the dossier again. “Says here she’s some kind of scientist. Wouldn’t that be helpful?”

“Bradford doesn’t appear to have made a note of it,” Weiss said, cocking an eyebrow as she looked over the dossier. “Moira conducted research that directly led to Earth’s genocide while working for the aliens. She is completely insane.”

“Why wouldn’t he tell us about that?” Blake asked, furrowing her brow.

“I don’t know. Maybe he didn’t think it was important?”

Yang shrugged. “Search me. All I’m saying is, if Moira comes at us? I’m not pulling any punches.”

“As if you could pull punches anyway,” Blake said.

Smirking, Yang shot a pair of finger guns to Blake. “You know it, babe.”

Blake rolled her eyes. “Please don’t call me that.”

Ruby came in at this point, holding her Scroll. “Uh, guys, I think I’ve found some stuff about Moira. They say she’s in Mistral’s market.”

“That’s not too far from here,” Blake said, hopping off the bed. “Should probably move if we want to get her.”

“So, is it true what this thing says?” Ruby asked. “That she can disappear and stuff? And she can do it without Aura and a Semblance?”

“That’s about the gist of it,” Yang said. “Something they called psionics? I dunno, I never learned much about it.”

Weiss nodded, readying up several Dust cartridges just in case something happened. “It’s roughly similar to Semblances here, from what I understand. We were able to get our powers back using it, so maybe it’s more similar than we think? Either way, I’ll let the others know we’re heading out.”

“Cool. We’ll meet you there, yeah?”

* * *

Somewhat improbably, Moira had simultaneously been spotted across twelve different blocks in Mistral, necessitating a split of the team. They went wide, with Freeman, Misfit and Yang covering one series of blocks, Ruby and Blake another, and finally Weiss on her own in the center. They kept in constant contact with one another via their Scrolls, ensuring not one of them would be caught unawares by Moira if push came to shove. For Moira’s sake, Weiss really, really hoped it wouldn’t come to that.

Moira’s tell-tale orbs floated through the air, harmlessly bouncing off of pillars and houses. The square she followed them to was devoid of people, all except of course Moira herself. Like half-predicted, somewhat unexpectedly, General O’Neill was there as well, sitting at a picnic table. He held his head in his hands, mingled exasperation and total boredom on his face. The man looked _miserable._ Weiss approached, and almost immediately O’Neill’s face lit up.

“Thank _god,_ ” he said, getting up from the table. “Please tell me you have some way off this planet. Something. Anything. I’ll eat my own foot off if it means getting away from _her.”_

“I don’t think we need to resort to such _drastic_ measures,” Moira cooed, reappearing in between Weiss and O’Neill.

“General, _Moira,”_ Weiss said, nodding to each one. “I have orders to bring you both back to base.”

Moira cracked an evil smile, steepling her fingers. “I was wondering when we would meet again, young one.”

“Oh, good, getting the whole gang back together,” O’Neill commented. “Just peachy.”

Weiss ignored the General’s comment, notifying the others she had found Moira and O’Neill. Just in time too – it looked like they had finished their sweeps. “I need you both to stay here for a moment,” Weiss said, even as Moira continued to goof off with her orbs, appearing and disappearing faster than she could blink.

“And miss out on the knowledge this world has?” she asked. “I think not. My powers have grown tenfold here.”

 _“You_ need to listen to me,” Weiss said, putting away her Scroll, hand hovering over Myrtenaster. “You could be in danger here.”

Moira paused, looking down on Weiss with an upturned nose. “And why should I take orders from a child?”

“Ladies, you’re both beautiful,” O’Neill said, gesturing for them to calm down. “Now, I’m not an expert on alien worlds, but maybe we should listen to the local?”

Across the plaza, Weiss could see Ruby and Blake approaching. Unfortunately, Moira saw them too, settling into an attack stance. “More interlopers,” she commented, preparing a decaying orb. “I assume you have a plan?”

“They’re not _interlopers,”_ Weiss replied, frowning. “They’re my teammates.”

“Great. Saved by the Lollipop Guild,” O’Neill muttered. “Well, beggars can’t be choosers, I guess.”

Ruby waved to them, picking up her pace alongside Blake. “Weiss! Is this them?”

“Yes. Sergeant Moira O’Deorain, and General Jack O’Neill.”

“It’s _Lieutenant_ now, young one,” Moira corrected, bowing before Ruby and Blake. “Pleasure to meet you.”

Yang, Misfit and Freeman soon joined them as well, reuniting team RWBY and their temporary targets for the journey back to the incredibly temporary – and by now, probably overcrowded – base.


	2. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> XCOM has arrived, but what - and who - they bring is a shock to those who remained on Remnant.

Having all these people here was like being back on the _Avenger_ again, waiting for the next big battle or breakthrough to be made. There was a lot of mourning, remembering those who had fallen or didn’t make it through the Gate. Weiss saw many a familiar face, and, unfortunately, saw faces that weren’t there that should have been. Commander Okorie wasted no time in setting up a temporary command hub, conferring with Bradford, Amari, O’Neill, Chief Engineer Shen and Doctor Tygan on the next step.

Conspicuously absent, however, was Qrow and Ozpin, According to Jaune, they were in another part of the building, and had been there since he, Nora and Ren had gotten back. Price, puffing away on one of his signature cigars, took the opportunity to pull Yang and Weiss to the side.

“Your friends Qrow and Ozpin are an odd couple,” he said, folding his arms.

Yang shrugged. “Qrow’s family, and Ozpin’s…. well, Ozpin.”

“You know they found Nikos, whisked her over to that wing? Been there since they got back.”

Yang and Weiss exchanged a concerned look. They had forgotten about her coming through the gate. Had anyone else seen her? Did Jaune know she was still alive? Who among XCOM was liable to talk about Pyrrha, unaware that she was technically _dead_ here?

“I can’t believe we forgot to ask Bradford,” Weiss said, holding a hand to her face. “Where was she?”

“To the west of here, on the coast,” Price said, tapping away ashes. “So, your stories were true, then? She died here?”

Yang sighed, nodding solemnly. “Yeah, it was… what, a year ago now?”

“At least,” Weiss added. “What are they doing over there? Do you know?”

“No,” Price said, shrugging. “This Ozpin lad seems pretty shook up about it.”

Yang shot a glance to Weiss, knowing full well what she was silently asking. _Should we tell him?_ Weiss maintained a neutral face, turning back to Price. “Well, I think this is the first time this has happened in either of his lives.”

“What she’s _trying_ to say is,” Yang interjected, “Ozpin’s like, at least eighty years old.

Price’s eyebrows jumped, but no other show of emotion escaped his face. “Suppose there’s a first time for everything.”

“Where exactly are they?” Weiss asked. Price pointed her to the balcony, where the doors where uncharacteristically closed.

“We should figure out what’s going on,” Yang said. “I mean, shit, if Pyrrha’s back…”

“Ozpin and Qrow are probably talking to her already,” Weiss said. “But, yes. We should probably at least investigate.”

She and Yang headed over to the doors, finding them locked. Yang tried to listen through the keyhole, but claimed she couldn’t hear anything. As if it’d help, Weiss put her ear to the door, but was simply met with muffled voices. Couldn’t even tell who was who. Price had mentioned that they asked not to be disturbed, but maybe this was a time to disregard requests. Weiss sighed, unable to bring herself to actually try the door again.

“We’ve only got the one option here, Weiss,” Yang said, kneeling next to the door.

“Do we? Yang, what are we hoping to accomplish with this?”

Yang furrowed her brow, shrugging. “What do you mean? Make sure our friend’s safe? Find out if she’s actually alive or not?”

“I think we both know the answer to that question.”

Weiss shifted her weight restlessly, hand manipulating Myrtenaster’s controls absentmindedly. “I don’t know, Yang,” she said, casting a look off to the side. “Maybe we don’t need to get involved here right now.

“Look, maybe they’re thinking Pyrrha’s some… I dunno, maybe they think she’s some kind of infiltrator. Remember those things we saw on Earth?”

The Faceless. Right. The things that could imitate someone perfectly, or so the stories said. Weiss didn’t want to admit it was possible, but… if the aliens knew where they were going, maybe they could send something ahead? Some kind of scout?

“Come on,” Yang said impatiently. “Don’t tell me you’re not thinking it too.”

“I don’t know _what_ I’m thinking right now, Yang,” Weiss admitted. “I thought we were _done_ with this, and now it’s all catching back up to us. I just… I want things to be normal.”

Yang got off the ground, putting her metal hand on Weiss’s shoulder, the cool metal solidly clamping on to her. “Weiss, come on. Life was _never_ going to be normal for us. We’re Huntresses, remember? We signed away our lives the minute we walked onto Beacon.”

Weiss closed her eyes, shoulders drooping. Slowly, she took a breath, opening her eyes again to see Yang, softly smiling at her. “Yes, I suppose you’re right.”

“So, come on. Let’s piss everyone off again,” Yang said, jerking her head to the door.

And thus, they broke their way through the door, perhaps less violently than Weiss had expected. Turned out only one of the doors was locked. Pyrrha sat in a chair, looking downtrodden as she stared at the floor. In front of her stood Qrow and Ozpin – or at least, Ozpin in Oscar’s body. Both seemed surprised at their intrusion.

“Didn’t you two get the memo?” Qrow asked shoving his hands in his pockets. “Nobody’s to disturb us.”

Ozpin chuckled, leaning against his cane. “I believe it may be a little bit late for that, Qrow. When were you going to tell us that Miss Nikos was alive?”

Next to her, Yang drew a sharp breath. Weiss gulped, feeling the lump make its way down her throat.

“We made a promise to her,” Yang explained. “She didn’t want anyone to know.”

“It’s true,” Pyrrha chimed in. “I was afraid it’d hurt my friends even more.”

Ozpin nodded, still keeping his eyes on Yang and Weiss. “Commendable, Miss Nikos. That still leaves us with questions, however.”

“Like how are you still alive, for one,” Qrow said, unscrewing his flask to take a drink.

Pyrrha let out a short, hollow laugh, unable to actually smile. “Truthfully? I still don’t know. I think my time on Earth was a way for me to make up for what I did here.”

“Interesting,” Ozpin said, scratching his chin, but he made no further comment on the matter. “Well, something tells me we won’t have any further answers in the coming days. We should prepare, but continue on our _own_ goals in case this alien threat is as serious as these new arrivals claim.”

“It absolutely is,” Yang said, frowning. “Their troops are way scarier than the Grimm.”

“I doubt that,” Qrow scoffed.

“You _wouldn’t_ if you saw what we did,” Weiss replied.

Qrow shrugged, putting away his flask. “You have fun talking to Pyrrha, Oz. I’m gonna go sleep off all that exercise.”

Ozpin nodded, tapping away with his cane on the floor. “Well, Miss Nikos, I have nothing further to ask you about. Let us all hope that these aliens will not intrude on our mission.”

With nothing else, Ozpin left as well, leaving only Yang and Weiss alone with Pyrrha. Yang sighed, while Weiss clasped her hands in front of her, trying to gauge Pyrrha’s mood. “So… I suppose you’ve been through a lot, huh?”

Pyrrha closed her eyes, swallowing hard. “One could say that, yes. They…they killed him.”

“Captain Rex, yeah,” Yang said, nodding. “Bradford told us.”

A hesitant, almost withheld sob escaped Pyrrha’s lips as she raised a hand to her mouth, tears rolling down her face. Immediately, Yang and Weiss enveloped Pyrrha in a hug. The others had had their chance – it was their turn to mourn now. Too many friends, too many allies lost. They truly were all that was left of Menace 1-5, weren’t they? Other than Freeman, but he didn’t care about the squad.

Through their grief, Weiss and Yang’s Scrolls buzzed. Ruby had texted them, calling the team together for a meeting. Weiss looked up, seeing first Yang’s concerned face, then Pyrrha’s confused look.

“What is it?” Pyrrha asked.

“I… I suppose we have a team meeting to go to,” Weiss replied.

* * *

Blake closed the door to Weiss’s room as she and Ruby stepped in. To Weiss, Blake looked annoyed, but her stoic demeanor almost always meant it was hard to get a read on her emotions. Ruby sighed, taking a seat on the bed next to Weiss.

“We need to talk about these people we brought here,” Blake said, folding her arms.

“What about them?” Yang asked.

“They’re, uh… well, I don’t want to say _weird,_ but…” Ruby said, waffling on her actual response.

Weiss shrugged. “Well, that’s what happens when everything you know is ripped away from you.”

“This goes way beyond weird, though,” Blake replied, unimpressed. “Have you talked to any of them?”

Yang furrowed her brow, confused that this was even a question. “We lived and fought with them for two years. What do you think?”

“Then you _have_ to know that they’re terrorists, right?” Blake asked, frowning. “They _brag_ about blowing up clinics! I _heard_ one of them talking about it, that Tyson guy!”

“Because the aliens were using them to genocide people!” Weiss shot back.

Blake scoffed, shaking her head. “And you _believe_ that?”

“I don’t _have_ to believe it,” Weiss retorted. “I saw it with my own eyes!”

“Guys,” Ruby said, her voice lost in the chaos. “We don’t have to fight…”

“Where’s the proof then?!” Blake demanded. “All I have are stories! I can’t trust them!”

Yang rolled her eyes, standing up. “Do _you_ think we trusted them when we got on the _Avenger?_ ”

“You understand how insane this all sounds, right?” Blake said, groaning as she put her head in her hands. “I’ve _heard_ all of this before, this… I don’t know, propaganda. The lies these people are telling themselves. This is all the White Fang _did_ to themselves, and I’m _not_ about to let myself get involved with that sort of group again.”

Weiss sighed, shrugging. “I don’t know what you want us to do. All the evidence is _gone._ Earth is _gone.”_

“I don’t care!” Blake yelled. “Give me something! Anything! Just explain to me why you believe these people, because I don’t get it!”

“Because the aliens killed three million people and turned them into a little green vial,” Weiss declared, staring Blake down.

Small gasps elicited from Blake and Ruby’s mouths as they sat there, eyes wide. Weiss could see Blake’s jaw hanging agape, lips quivering. “Th-that can’t be right,” she said shakily. “Maybe they got it wrong, or-”

“They didn’t,” Yang said coldly. “XCOM had the names of everyone in that vial. Aliens lured them in there, and just… processed them. Like they were some kind of _product.”_

“Can we maybe talk about less depressing things?” Ruby asked, flopping over on the bed. In a flash, Yang was right next to her, hugging her in an attempt to provide comfort.

Something was off to Weiss though. Tyson… it wasn’t a name she recognized. She knew a lot of people on the _Avenger,_ but there were also a lot of people she _didn’t_ know. It definitely wasn’t a name from Misfit.

“Blake,” Weiss said, puzzling over the mystery. “You said something about a Tyson. Did you maybe mean Dr. Tygan? He indirectly helped make those clinics.”

“No,” Blake said, resting her head on her hand. “One of their soldiers.”

“I don’t know any Tyson,” Yang said.

“Maybe he was in Price’s squad?” Weiss speculated.

“I thought _you_ were in Price’s squad when you found me,” Yang said. “Well, hey, take Blake, see if you can find this guy.”

Blake took a heavy breath, reluctantly heading out to the common area with Weiss. The throng of people was almost impossible to navigate. Blake looked upon a handful of people, but disregarded each one as not who she had overheard. Even passing by Dr. Tygan was met with indifference by Blake. Weiss had almost given up hope, until she paused at the couches. There, in addition to Mike and Hannah hanging out and talking to each other on one couch, a dark-skinned man was fast asleep. Weiss recognized the cut of his combat trousers as American, while he had an olive drab shirt on for the moment. His jet-black hair was practically nonexistent below an equally black German softcap.

Well, they couldn’t get answers out of him if he was asleep. Weiss dared to shake his shoulder, prompting him to wake up. “Hmm?” he hummed, blinking as he took off his hat.

“You’re Tyson, right?” Weiss asked.

“Lieutenant Tyson Holzmann. Who’re you?”

“This is my teammate, Blake Belladonna, and I’m Weiss Schnee. I don’t think I recall seeing you on the _Avenger.”_

He scoffed, sitting up. “Yeah, well, I was ‘till it blew up.” He blinked, a glimmer of recognition washing over his face. “Wait, I know you. You were on Menace, right? The spec ops shitbird squad.”

“Well, I don’t know if I would call it _that,”_ Weiss replied, chuckling. “What squad were you in?”

“Golf 4-2. You might’ve known us as Bad Company.”

“Why’s that?” Blake asked, striking a closed-off pose.

He paused, blinking slowly. “Heaviest casualties out of any other squad. Most people reckoned being assigned to Golf was a death sentence.”

“I can’t say I remember any talk about Golf,” Weiss admitted.

Tyson hummed, putting his cap back on and lying on the couch. “Consider yourself lucky, then. Now, do y’all mind? I’d like to get back to sleep.”

Blake and Weiss’s Scrolls buzzed at that moment. Looked like events conspired to take them away from Tyson anyway – Jaune had texted them, saying he, Ren and Nora wanted to talk about something he only described as “important”. Time to head back up to their rooms. Weiss bid Tyson farewell, waving to Hannah and Mike as she and Blake left.

“He’s dangerous, you know,” Blake whispered.

“You don’t know that.”

Blake shook her head, keeping her eyes forward and head low. “I know his type. Trust me.”

* * *

Back in Weiss’s room, Ren, Nora and Jaune had joined Yang and Ruby. Ren and Nora sat on the bed, while Jaune stared out the window, his back to Blake and Weiss as they came in.

“What’s going on?” Blake asked.

Weiss could hear Jaune exhale deeply, his head dropping low. “When were you going to tell us?”

“Tell you _what?”_ Blake asked, looking to the rest of RWBY for help.

“Not you,” Jaune said, turning to look pointedly and Yang and Weiss. _“When were you going to tell us?”_

Both Ruby and Blake swapped confused looks between their teammates, completely befuddled by Jaune’s line of questioning.

“Yang, Weiss,” Ruby asked, concern in her voice. “What’s going on?”

Yang sighed, standing up. “We made a promise.”

“Promise to _who?”_ Blake asked, furrowing her brow.

Ren looked up, almost as if he were disappointed. “So they don’t know either, then?”

“Know _what?!”_ Blake demanded.

“Pyrrha’s alive,” Jaune said, folding his arms, anger written all over his face. “Qrow told us. Thought we would want to know.”

Ruby gasped, while Blake just formed fists, visibly shaking next to Weiss. “If this is some kind of sick prank,” Blake began, cut off by Jaune.

“It’s not. Apparently, she’s been alive the whole time, and just didn’t come back with Weiss and Yang.”

“Who the hell _are_ you people?!” Blake shouted, throwing her arms wide and raising an eyebrow at Weiss and Yang. “Why would you keep something like that a secret?! Didn’t you think we’d want to _know_ that? That we’d want to know about our friend being _alive?!”_

“Pyrrha asked us not to,” Weiss tried to explain, but she could see her answer was falling on deaf ears. “She didn’t want to hurt you guys.”

“This is fucking ridiculous!” Blake yelled, clutching her head. “First you hide why you were gone for two weeks, now this?! I don’t know who you are anymore.”

“Blake, we’re the same people you went to Beacon with,” Yang shouted back. “This doesn’t change that!”

“I’m not so sure,” Jaune interjected. All things considered, he was incredibly level-headed.

Yang headed over to Blake, tried to hug her, put a hand on her shoulder, _something_ to help, but Blake just pushed her hands away. “Don’t fucking touch me,” she said. “Now’s _not_ the time, Yang.”

“What did you want us to do?” Weiss asked. “Explain we fought a war over two years when it looked like we were gone two weeks? You barely believed us when it was Bradford!”

“It at least would have made _this_ easier to deal with,” Nora said quietly.

Yang, apparently still reeling from Blake’s rejection, was practically frozen in place. She wasn’t in any place to help defend them. “Well, would you have _believed_ us when we told you that?” Weiss asked. “If Bradford, Price, Ana, if _none_ of them were here, would you have believed us?”

“The truth isn’t crazy,” Jaune said, still seething with his crossed arms. “I would have believed it.”

“You only believe it _now_ because you can’t deny the people in front of you! If XCOM wasn’t here, you wouldn’t have believed a word we said!”

“You know what,” Blake said suddenly, her breathing short and rapid. “You’re right, Weiss. I wouldn’t have believed it. I _still_ don’t believe it. I’m out of here.”

Blake made a quick escape, slamming the door behind her. After an agonizingly long time, Ruby slipped out as well, saying she would rather be alone for a little while. With scornful glares, Jaune, Ren and Nora left as well, leaving only Yang and Weiss alone.

Or, more accurately, Weiss alone, because she could clearly tell Yang was still trying to process what had happened with Blake.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Weiss finally ventured, knowing she was stepping on a probable minefield.

“No,” Yang said, looking down at the floor. “Well, we went and did it again, Weiss. _Yippee.”_

* * *

How long had Blake been in her room, crying her eyes out? Did she even have any tears left to spare? Sometimes it just made her want to emulate Yang, punch every single wall she could find and break them down into nothing. There were a lot of things she could accept. Gathering up all these people. Getting involved in _another_ war.

What she couldn’t accept, and didn’t want to, was that her friends had lied to her.

Maybe it was fair play. After all, hadn’t she lied to them at Beacon, when she hid who she was from them. Pretended like she wasn’t a criminal. But that was protecting them, protecting _herself._ This was different, Blake rationalized. Yang and Weiss had looked her right in the eyes, fed her some bullshit story, and she bought it like a thirsty man in the desert. A knock came as the door. Was it Yang? Probably. God, of all the people she wanted to talk to, someone who said she had loved her and then broken every ounce of goodwill like this was the last person on the list.

“Go away, Yang,” Blake said, burying her head in her hands.

The knocking continued, more insistent this time. Well, she couldn’t say Yang was ever good at taking hints…

“Go _away.”_

Still it persisted. Almost _urgent._ Blake groaned, got off her bed of self-misery, and marched to the door, throwing it open to reveal… one of the newcomers. Which one was this again? It was one of their captains, right?

 _“Ahlan,”_ the older woman said, an eye patch on her right eye.

“I-I’m sorry,” Blake said. “I don’t think we’ve been introduced.”

The woman nodded, smiling softly. “Captain Ana Amari. I couldn’t help but overhear the conversation you had with your friends.”

Blake paused, blinking. It _had_ been that loud, hadn’t it? Shit, how much did they hear of it? Blake could feel her ears drooping, and moved to close the door. “I don’t want to talk about it.”

“Not even over a cup of tea?” Somehow, Captain Amari had produced two cups of tea. Where had she gotten them from? When did she even have time to _brew_ it? There was an entire tray here, with not just a pot, but sugar, syrup, honey, all the things she would need to make the tea palatable.

“I…”

“You don’t have to talk if you don’t want to,” Captain Amari said. “I have plenty of tea. We’ll have a few cups and get down to the root of your problem.”

Somewhat reluctantly, Blake let the strange Captain in, taking a cup from her and sitting cross-legged on her bed. Amari set the tray on Blake’s desk, taking a cup for herself and taking the desk chair. The cup was warm, but not too warm. Just the right temperature. Blake didn’t often take her tea with sugar, preferring it straight, but…well, that honey was looking pretty tempting about now. She sipped on the tea, brewed almost to perfection. This Captain Amari must have had literal years of experience making tea. It was miles beyond anything she had ever made.

“It’s the lying that hurts more than anything,” Blake finally said as her cup began to run dry. “I mean, I lied to them too, but it was to protect them. I never lied about something like this.”

“They had a good reason to lie,” Captain Amari said, pouring a fresh cup for both of them. She added a teaspoon of honey at Blake’s request.

Blake shrugged, accepting the new cup. “I still don’t understand it.”

The captain smiled knowingly, taking in the smell of the tea. “Look at it this way, child. If you had found me here, and I told you I came from a world under threat of alien invasion and described every horror I saw to you, would _you_ believe me?”

Instinctively, she wanted to say yes, but knew that was another lie to add to the list. In reality, it was far more likely that, if that hypothetical had ever happened, Blake would have dismissed her out of hand. Just a senile old woman that didn’t know any better. “I guess not,” Blake finally admitted.

“Exactly. That’s not a failure. Many of us thought Weiss was crazy when we first found her.”

Blake looked up, arching an eyebrow. “Really?”

“The first thing she did was point a weapon at Bradford and demand directions to a place that didn’t exist,” Captain Amari said, smiling. _Sounded like Weiss, alright._

“None of this is helping.”

Captain Amari shrugged, setting down her cup. “Maybe it won’t. That’s okay. All _I_ can hope is that you can mend this broken fence with your friends, because if your bond is as strong as Weiss told me, then we will need you unified when the aliens come. That unity is our strength, the strength we can use to defeat the aliens.”

Blake scoffed, looking away. “What do _you_ care about my friendship with Yang and Weiss?”

“I’ve seen too many people die before they could say what they wanted. Your friends are wonderful people, child. They’re even fiercer warriors.”

As Blake sipped on the last of her tea, Captain Amari began gathering up her tea supplies, letting Blake know she could leave her cup in the kitchen when she was finished. The tea was nice, Blake had to admit, but she wasn’t sure if it was making her feel better. She glanced out the window – it was getting late. How long had she and Captain Amari been sitting there, drinking tea? Putting the empty cup on the desk, Blake sighed as she got ready for bed.

Maybe tomorrow would be a better day.


	3. Locked and Loaded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RWBY and Qrow accompany XCOM on a supply run. Pyrrha makes amends with her team.

XCOM had decided to build their main base in Mistral, dispatching their members to do anything and everything necessary to get the materials together to construct their base. Without lien, however, the best they could do was use axes and start clearing out an area near the forests. Already, they were planning to work at breakneck speed, their Commander having a grand plan to build a so-called “state of the art” facility with clear fields of fire and all the amenities they had grown accustomed to on Earth. Personally, Blake wasn’t sure if they’d actually be able to accomplish it.

“There is one thing I must ask of you, Ozpin,” Commander Okorie said, breaking Blake out of her thoughts. “Before the aliens invaded, we were heavily involved in sending probing teams to other dimensions we recorded through the Stargate program. General O’Neill, if you would?”

O’Neill nodded, stepping forward to the table that had a map of Remnant on it. “So, surprise. We’d actually known Remnant existed before. Didn’t know this is what it was, we just ID’ed it as… I don’t know, something stupid. Probably had a T and a bunch of random numbers in it. Anyway, we sent through a number of weapons caches to other dimensions we knew of, as well as probing teams. This was one of the last ones we sent weapons through, but we never sent the whole team.”

“Why not send the whole team?” Qrow asked, leaning against the wall.

“We were going to. Aliens invaded, which sort of disrupted that plan. Either way, I have a tracker that can help us find it.” To emphasize this, O’Neill held up a small, rectangular device, shaking it like a box of candy.

“Why do you need _our_ help?” Blake asked.

Dr. Tygan, having stood back for these proceedings, adjusted his glasses as he stepped forward. “We’re unsure at this moment whether our weapons can be utilized against the beasts of Remnant. It only makes sense to have those with weapons we know work accompany us in our journey.”

“Yes, that does make sense,” Ozpin agreed, leaning on his cane. “I suppose we can spare some time to this. Qrow, why don’t you take Ruby and her team, and accompany them on their mission?”

Blake sighed, folding her arms. Looked like Yang and Weiss were at least interested in it. Qrow, as per usual, just stood there, his expression unflinching. General O’Neill called out two people to go with them – Micheal Dudley and Tyson Holzmann. _Of course._

No time to waste, they said. May as well leave now. The XCOM people picked up weapons, odd, plastic-looking things that didn’t look anything like what she recognized. O’Neill had also added a pair of sunglasses to his outfit, a pair of green coveralls and what looked like some kind of vest lined with pockets and pouches. Blake wondered if anyone would excuse their strange appearance. At least this Dudley guy looked relatively normal.

“So, this won’t take long, right?” Qrow asked as they headed out the door.

O’Neill shrugged. “Well, tracker’s saying it’s only a few miles away. Not sure if you guys _have_ miles, but…”

“Never heard of it.”

Micheal chuckled, resting his weapon on his shoulders. “Dis oughta be good, then.”

Blake rolled her eyes, falling in behind Yang, Weiss, and Ruby. Mistral looked peaceful, not all like the chaos that had engulfed it when Salem’s minions had thrown the city into madness. If these aliens were as real a threat as everyone kept saying, who knew what would happen.

* * *

Their trek took them to Anima’s forests, where the lush green trees flanked the paths. Blake could hear birds singing, cool wind blowing through leaves, and occasionally a bug called out.

Of course, the clatter of XCOM’s gear was just as loud, breaking the normalcy of this forest with all the subtlety of a sledgehammer. Plastic bottles knocked against canvas belts and magazine pouches. Heavy boots crunched against the dirt road they had found themselves on, punctuated by the soft beeping of O’Neill’s tracking device.

“So, what exactly are we looking for?” Blake asked, scanning the trees for Grimm.

“Like I said, weapons cache,” O’Neill replied. “Might be buried or something, depending on where it landed.”

Qrow took a swig from his flask, side-eyeing O’Neill. “Tell me more about these missions you guys used to do. You just tossed over crates of weapons and people?”

“Not quite. We’d send a handful of people over, and if the signal was good send more men and supplies. Remnant was one of them.”

“I thought you said the aliens interrupted it,” Yang said.

O’Neill pursed his lips, pensively bouncing his head from side to side. “Yeah, well, yes and no. We had a successful push into here through the Stargate. Rest of the team was Daniel Jackson, Carter, and myself, with a few other ‘brave’ volunteers. Right after Jackson went through, that’s when the aliens attacked. Well, wouldn’t you know it, aliens wrecked the Stargate when the weapons and Jackson went through.”

“So… you couldn’t recover him,” Yang finished.

“We’ve got a winner, folks. Always meant to see if we could reopen the path, but…by the time we got the Psionic Gate, the coordinates we had for Remnant didn’t look right. It was like a different planet.”

“So,” Blake asked. “How do you know it’s here if it didn’t look right?”

O’Neill shook the device, which began to speed up its beeping, but only slightly. “This wouldn’t be going off, for one. Weapons cache had an RF emitter in it that allowed us to track it on hostile worlds. Works on nine out of ten planets.”

“RF?” Qrow asked, glancing back with a cocked eyebrow.

“Radio frequency,” O’Neill explained. “Cache sends out a ping, we get it here.”

Distant roar. That could only mean one thing. The Grimm were nearby. Ruby, Yang, Weiss and Qrow had all heard it too, readying their weapons. O’Neill put the tracking device in a hip pouch, taking his other hand and placing it on the handguard of his rifle.

“I’m guessing that’s not a welcoming committee,” O’Neill commented.

“Grimm,” Qrow reported. “Stay on your guard.”

Something mechanical clacked behind her. “Fuck,” Micheal muttered. “Well, guess we get to see if our guns work against these things, huh?”

“I’m not a fan of testing weapons in active combat, Dudley,” Tyson said. “Hey! You! What targets are we looking for?”

“You’ll know it when you see it,” Qrow called back. “If it’s big and ugly, shoot it, I guess.”

The roaring drew ever closer. Sounded like an Ursa. Usually, she could tell exactly where a Grimm was coming from, but the unfamiliar noises had put her on too high of an alert. Couldn’t focus on what was important. Blake forced herself to slow down, take a breath, _focus._ Slowly, she could start to discern the direction of the Ursa. Yang had figured it out too, looking to the left.

The Ursa broke onto the scene, snapping trees like twigs and stomping down with a massive crash, accompanied by an overwhelmingly loud roar. Blake stepped off immediately, flanking wide with Yang. She could hear Crescent Rose firing, as one of Weiss’s glyphs sped her up. This Ursa wasn’t as big as she first thought – they could take this down easily. _You’ve done this a million times before, Blake_ , she reminded herself. _Short, controlled bursts. Draw it away from Yang._

She could see the Dust bouncing off the Ursa, the Grimm reacting to every hit it took. Groans of pain emanated from it, as the distinct, otherworldly _pops_ of XCOM’s weapons filled the air. It didn’t sound like any Dust weapon she knew of. What in the world were they using? Their orders mixed with callouts from team RWBY and Qrow, adding a mass confusion to the entire fight. It was the kind of fight Blake had found herself in hundreds of times before. Keep light on her feet, distract the enemy, make space for her teammates to do work. It became so routine she barely registered when the battle had ended, watching the Ursa collapse on the ground and slowly fade away into nothing.

Blake turned to see XCOM staring, mouths agape. “What?” she asked, shrugging.

“Okay, I’ve gotta be off my fuckin’ rocker or something,” Micheal said, blinking rapidly. “’Cause I swear to fuckin’ _god_ that I just saw that thing fuckin’ disappear.”

“You saw right,” Qrow said, returning his weapon to its closed form. “What? Didn’t have Grimm where you come from?”

“No,” Yang said. “They didn’t, actually.”

O’Neill sighed, shaking his head. “Guess having Tygan examine that is out of the question. Do we want to get back on the move to find this or what?”

As RWBY and Qrow headed back onto the road, Blake could hear Tyson and Micheal speaking quietly to each other, talking about how it didn’t seem like their weapons did anything to the Grimm. Blake did her best to ignore them, going back to scanning for more threats. If there was one Grimm about, there was almost always another one.

About half an hour later, the beeping grew in intensity, until it became a constant tone. They had traveled to a village, but it wasn’t one Blake recognized. Ruby couldn’t even find it on the map. The buildings were old, far older than anything she could remember, with dusty, forgotten roads crisscrossing the area. A small square, with practically two layers of dust on it, stood in the center. O’Neill carefully held his scanner up to each building, before settling on one that looked like it had seen better days.

Though, Blake figured calling it a building was being generous. It looked more like a lean-to with a fascia attached to the front. Tyson, Micheal and O’Neill stood next to the door, getting close – _really_ close, actually – while Tyson murmured something about an unlocked door. For some reason, he slid his hand over the door frame.

“No wires,” Tyson said, returning his hand to his weapon’s grip. Once he had done that, and with RWBY and Qrow standing by, he leaned back into Micheal. Before anything else could happen, the door opened. In the doorway stood a man with round glasses, medium-length dirty blonde hair, dressed in what could be accurately called rags.

“Uh, hey there,” he said, looking over RWBY and Qrow cautiously. Slowly, he turned his gaze to the left, spotting XCOM. “O’Neill?”

O’Neill lifted his sunglasses up, his brow furrowed and bewildered eyes staring back. “Jackson?”

“It’s been years! What happened?”

Save for the two men who clearly recognized each other, a general air of confusion settled in as they alternatively stared at Jackson and O’Neill. What the hell was going on?

“Yeah, uh,” O’Neill said hesitantly. “How’s about we talk inside?”

Jackson blinked, then moved out of the way to let them in, gesturing grandly to his little hovel. “Well, of course! Come on in.”

Single-file, XCOM and RWBY headed inside. It really _was_ as simply built inside as it looked outside. Simple fireplace, dirt floor, really not much in the way of modern amenities other than a chair and bed. How did he _live_ like this?

“Really, though, it has been years, O’Neill, I’m kind of surprised you never opened the Stargate again,”Jackson said, clearing some space off the small round table. “Uh, feel free to make yourselves at home.”

“Okay, Daniel, I have to know first,” O’Neill said, leaning against a wall. After a loud creaking came from it, he thought better of the idea and stood tall again. “How the hell are you alive?”

Jackson paused, biting his lip. “Well, that’s kind of a loaded question. Uh, how much do you know about Remnant?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” O’Neill said back, frowning. “We didn’t have _any_ intel on this planet when we sent you through.”

“Right, yes, uh, I’ve learned a few things.” Jackson held up a hand, pulling out some papers and spreading them on the table he had just cleared off. “Well, good news, there’s no goa’uld on this planet.”

“That was always a theory of yours, but go on,” O’Neill said.

“Bad news, there’s something far worse. The locals call them the Creatures of Grimm-”

“Yes, we’ve been acquainted,” O’Neill replied, sighing. “Daniel, who do you think _these_ people are?”

Daniel turned, looking at RWBY and Qrow. Blake could see the gears in his head turning until he finally put two and two together. “That… yes, that makes sense. Uh, who… who are they?”

“Name’s Qrow, this is Ruby, Yang, Weiss and Blake,” Qrow said, pointing to them in turn. “I’m wondering what you two are being so flaky about.”

O’Neill’s eyebrows jumped as he pursed his lips. “Well, one disaster at a time. Daniel, you haven’t really answered me. How are you alive?”

“Well… it’s a pretty complicated story. Why? Why is this surprising?”

“Let me put it this way – I could wake up tomorrow morning with my _head_ sewn to the carpet, and I wouldn’t be more surprised than I am right now. You’ve been missing for _twenty years,”_ O’Neill replied.

Daniel paused, his mouth agape. He frowned, his brow locked as he alternatively closed and opened his mouth to say something. “W-wait, I’m… I’m confused. Though… I guess it’d explain why you look older.”

“Yeah, because _that’s_ a real confidence booster. Daniel, what happened after you got here?”

“Well, I tracked down the cache, waited, but… nobody else came. I thought there might have been an issue with the Stargate, but I had no way to get back. So, I tried to find a Stargate _here,_ but I couldn’t find any trace of one.”

Blake folded her arms, cocking an eyebrow. “So, you’ve just been here waiting? Why?”

“Not quite,” Daniel said hesitantly. “I figured out pretty quickly that nobody else was coming through the Stargate, but without a way home, or even a way to _communicate,_ I thought I might as well make the best of it.”

O’Neill pinched the bridge of his nose, clearly frustrated. “Daniel, what are you saying?”

“I built this village, made a family,” he replied, his face falling. “They’re… gone now, unfortunately, but… I made a life for myself as a merchant. Traveled wherever I could, learn as much as possible.”

“This village isn’t on any map,” Qrow said. “I’m not sure about you guys, but my bullshit detector’s picking up some strong readings.”

“It _used_ to be,” Daniel said, offended. “It’s not anymore because I’m the only one living in it. Nobody cares about some merchant.”

“We’re wasting time,” Tyson muttered, peering out the tiny windows. “We gotta get this cache, can we get a move on?”

“Right. Okay Daniel, you might want to sit down because I have news for you,” O’Neill said, allowing Daniel to take a seat on the small wooden chair that sat in the middle of the room. “So. Earth is gone, that’s item number one. Item number two is that aliens invaded Earth, killed pretty much everyone, and are on their way _here,_ so we _really_ need that cache of weapons we sent with you. My tracker is saying it’s here. Where is it at?”

Daniel’s eyes grew wide, and he let out a short puff of breath, completely dumbfounded by the news. “Uh, well, it’s… let me just…”

Slowly, Daniel got up, heading over to one of the walls. He ran his fingers along a beveled stone, lightly pressing. Betraying the dilapidated nature of the house he had taken up residence in, the wall began to smoothly slide open, revealing high quality metal that lined a quite literal vault. Unlike the dirt floor, the vault had polished steel floors and bright electrical lights that illuminated racks of weapons and piles of ammunition, neatly stacked into magazines and in long belts. Micheal whistled as the door opened to reveal its contents.

“Great, problem one solved,” Tyson said. “Problem two. We don’t have the manpower to carry all this back.”

“Oh, uh, I can help you with that,” Daniel said, though perhaps less enthusiastically as he had been before O’Neill revealed Earth’s fate. “Being a merchant has _some_ perks, like a fleet of transports to move things by. They’re simple to operate, you just-”

“Yes, thank you Daniel,” O’Neill said, moving past him to take stock of the vault. “Alright, let’s categorize this. Holzmann, take notes on the small arms. Dudley, explosives. Let’s make sure we have everything.”

Daniel cleared his throat, awkwardly waving. “Uh, there might not be a need for that. I haven’t used anything. The Grimm don’t seem to be affected much by gunpowder based weapons.”

“Right. Another field lesson,” O’Neill muttered. “Where are your transports at?”

“Next building, I can get them in a minute.”

Micheal frowned as he looked over a rifle, holding it up and presenting it to O’Neill. “What da hell? What’s with the Russian stuff? I thought Stargate was Air Force.”

O’Neill shrugged. “We kind of learned our lesson after the Abydos mission. Bring weapons that can be maintained even if you’re on a stone age world.”

“Uh, actually, Abydos was Bronze Age, Jack,” Daniel said, chuckling.

O’Neill paused, hid face neutral. “Thank you for that, Daniel. Uh, the transports, please?”

“Right,” he said, heading out the door as Tyson and Micheal counted things up. Almost as fast as they did this, O’Neill was gathering up the weapons on the table. The sound of engines outside drew Blake’s attention, spotting several flatbacked trucks lined up outside. Aside from being old – _really_ old, come to think of it – they looked to be in relatively decent shape. Daniel soon rejoined them inside, leaving the trucks to idle outside.

“So, uh, if you don’t mind me asking, Jack,” he asked, looking at the piled weapons on his table. “Where’s Carter? I thought for sure she’d be with you.”

Weiss drew a stunted gasp, as Micheal and Tyson paused, looking to O’Neill. The general stood like a statue, only moving enough to breathe. Slowly, he turned to face Daniel, sighing deeply. “Well, Daniel, that’s…that’s an easy question, but a hard answer. She’s dead.”

Daniel’s face twisted in confusion. “D-dead? What do you mean? Unless…”

“When we were trying to get to here, Carter opened the gate for us,” O’Neill explained. “She couldn’t get through in time before the aliens overran our ship.”

“You had a ship?” Daniel asked incredulously.

O’Neill nodded. “Like I said, you’ve been gone twenty years on Earth, Daniel. Lot to go over. We could use someone with your expertise, if you want to help.”

“All present and accounted for, General,” Tyson reported.

Daniel’s eyes jumped up again. “This can’t possibly be right. _General_ O’Neill? Of all the things I’ve heard, that’s the most improbable to believe.”

O’Neill nodded solemnly. “Yeah, well, just let me know your decision before we head out, alright? Can you guys help with moving this stuff?”

Shrugging, Blake joined in transferring XCOM’s weapons and ammo to the trucks, piling them as carefully as possible. Their mechanics didn’t make sense to Blake. Where did the Dust go? Why’d they have so many weapons if they only needed a handful of them at any time? There had to be at least a hundred weapons here, but XCOM was only about twenty five strong if that.

“Hey!” Tyson shouted as Ruby threw a box onto a truck. “Careful with that! It says ‘explosive’, can’t you see?!”

“Oh,” Ruby said. “Sorry! Sorry, I didn’t see it!”

“Yeah, clearly,” he scoffed, shaking his head.

_What an asshole,_ Blake thought as she patted Ruby’s shoulder, making sure she was alright. Maybe a bit less enthusiastic about helping out than before, but she’d be fine. Were these people always like this? How did Yang and Weiss survive with them? And for two _years_ no less? Hell, Pyrrha had _stayed behind._

“What the _fuck,_ ” Tyson shouted again, holding a long belt of ammunition in the air. “Who threw this into this pile?!”

“Uh, I think I did,” Ruby said, shakily holding up a hand.

Locking eyes with Ruby, Tyson violently threw the ammo to the ground, sauntering over to her. “That truck has 7.62 _Soviet_ ammunition in it. That belt was 7.62 _NATO._ Do you not know how to read the markings?”

“N-no,” Ruby muttered, her voice wavering.

“There can’t be _that_ much of a difference,” Blake said, shrugging. “It sounds the same to me.”

“Three millimeter difference between those cartridges,” Tyson said, rattling it off as if it were some sort of universal fact. “But that three millimeter difference makes those rounds unusable if it’s the wrong weapon.”

O’Neill came out of the house at this point, sliding his sunglasses back over his eyes. “What’s with all the shouting going on out here?”

“Sir,” Tyson said, narrowing his eyes at Blake and Ruby. “I have serious doubts about the reliability of the local forces.”

O’Neill stared at him, mouth agape for a few moments. “Yeah, uh, right. Look, unless you’ve got a better idea, Lieutenant, we’re just going to have to deal with it. We’re almost done, should be ready to move out soon.”

Tyson nodded, casting a final disapproving look at Ruby and Blake. What was his deal, anyway? Blake returned the stare as he headed off, tossing the belt into the “right” pile. Yang and Weiss were inside – she should ask them about this later. Fifteen minutes later, they had finished their task and were on the road again.

Blake really hoped they wouldn’t come across any more Grimm on their way back.

* * *

Pyrrha hated waiting around.

She especially hated waiting around with the eyes of her teammates upon her, wondering why she had decided not to come back. Pyrrha had heard that somebody told Jaune, Ren and Nora that she had been alive the whole time. Was it really true though? Pyrrha wasn’t sure. After all, she had only been dead on Remnant for about a year, but she was on Earth at about the same time Yang and Weiss were. It didn’t make sense to her, but little ever really did in the first place.

Her friends – old and XCOM alike – had only been gone for about a day. She might not get another opportunity to talk to her old team alone. For hours, she mulled over how best to approach them. Would it be best to let them approach her? Or try and have it come up naturally? But, on the other hand, they hadn’t even spoken to her since she arrived. Pyrrha wasn’t stupid – she could see the disbelief in their eyes when they looked at her, the pain that was hidden behind their jokes with each other, the way they fell silent whenever she walked in the room.

She had to talk to them, right? It only made sense. It looked like they usually hung out together in Jaune’s room in the mornings. Maybe she could slip in that way, talk to them all at once? But what if they saw through her attempts to make amends? The entire prospect just stressed her out the more she thought about it.

“Oh, uh, hey Pyrrha,” Nora said, opening the door to Jaune’s room. Involuntarily, Pyrrha jumped, not expecting herself to actually be standing here mulling it all over.

“H-hi, Nora,” she replied, blinking. She really _had_ been standing here for a while, hadn’t she? “Um, c-can I talk to you guys?”

Nora paused, no doubt thinking it over, She held up a finger, closing the door enough that Pyrrha couldn’t hear what was going on inside. After a few seconds, she opened it back up to let Pyrrha in. The atmosphere was like Pyrrha expected, to be frank. The eyes of her former team were upon her, each scrutinizing look spelling either potential disaster, or a bridge to rebuilding the bonds she had made with them.

“Well?” Jaune said, his arms folded as he stood against the wall. “What did you want to talk about?”

Pyrrha gulped, clasping her hands in front of her. Well, no other way to be other than direct. “I… wanted to… I suppose _apologize_ is the word, for asking Yang and Weiss to lie to you.”

The room fell silent as Pyrrha’s words hung in the air. Jaune refused to look at her. Ren and Nora sat next to each other, Ren with his arm draped around Nora’s shoulders. It was as if they had all decided to become statues, impossible still and silent. It was maddening. She had to say something, right?

“I wish I could go back,” she finally said, unable to stop the flow of words. “I want to go back to that day at Beacon, change everything. But, I can’t wish that. When I was fighting for Earth, the captain Yang, Weiss and I served under told us that there was no point in hoping for the past to change. I thought about all of you every day I was on board that ship, hoping I could tell you I was safe.”

Pyrrha felt tears rolling down her cheek, her throat feeling like it was made of the same woolen blanket she had used on the _Avenger._ She looked down, if only for a moment in an attempt to dry away the tears with her sleeves. Glancing up she saw Jaune shaking his head slowly.

“Why?” he asked. “Why didn’t you come back with them?” If she didn’t know any better, she’d almost think Jaune was accusing her of something.

“Truthfully? I was afraid. Weiss told me that nobody knew what had happened to me, except that I died. I was worried that if I came back…I don’t know, I would stop existing on the way back? Does that make sense?”

“What _if?”_ Nora asked. “What if you, like, reincarnated like Ozpin did?”

“I thought about that too. I couldn’t know for sure.” Pyrrha swallowed again, as if she were trying to shove her own emotions down her throat. “Weiss and Yang already heard this, but…dying was something else. Going to Earth was even stranger. I could feel myself falling, being cold the entire time, it felt endless.”

Ren stroked his chin with his free hand. “It makes sense, I suppose,” he said, his first words to her since she had come to Remnant. “But why ask Yang and Weiss to keep your survival a secret?”

Pyrrha sobbed, unintentionally. “I didn’t want to hurt any of you,” she explained. “I thought if you knew, it would just make everything worse. I know if I had lost one of you, and then heard an impossible story about how you were actually alive, I would think myself in a fever dream.”

“I don’t get it,” Jaune said, shrugging. “It’s like you’re not even the same person anymore. I mean, I can look at you, and I still see _you,_ but…those clothes aren’t you. The things you talk about aren’t you. I don’t even recognize how you _fight_ anymore.”

Pyrrha looked down, cognizant once more of the French camouflage uniform she had started using. It had been part of her for so long – god, four years now, in fact – that she scarcely regarded it as different. “You’re right,” Pyrrha admitted. “I’m…well, like I said, I thought about you all for four years, wondering if I’d ever be able to see you again, and now…”

“You could have,” Jaune replied. His tone was even, level, but she could tell he was hiding a lot of anger behind his words. She had heard him like this only once before. “Look, we can say the same things over and over again. I just want to know, Pyrrha – do you think you made the right choice staying there, instead of coming back?”

If there was ever an armor-piercing question, this was it. Pyrrha took a sharp breath, wary of anyone moving. She feared if someone even moved an inch, she’d pop like a balloon under the pressure. “I don’t know,” she said as tears _again_ began to stream down her face. “I’m sorry my death never gave any of you closure. I understand if that crime is unforgivable.”

Still, her former team sat there, unflinching in their resolve to give her the cold shoulder. At least, all but Nora. She smiled warmly at Pyrrha, mouthing the words _“give them time”_ to her. Pyrrha nodded, quietly heading out the door. There was nothing left to say, and even if there was, what good would it do? No, it was better to leave now, leave what she had said as it was, pretend like her friends didn’t look at her as if she didn’t exist.

Home clearly wasn’t what it used to be.


	4. Talking while Fighting

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first alien force is sighted in Remnant, and RWBY, with Lieutenant Holzmann, is sent out to intercept it. Squads are formalized.

The days passed by lazily, with Ozpin and Uncle Qrow constantly meeting with Commander Okorie for discussions that almost never involved Ruby and her friends, for reasons unknown to her. Occasionally, Qrow would give them an update about what they were talking about, but it was always how the XCOM people were panicking about what they called the inevitable arrival of the aliens. They didn’t _care_ about Salem, about what she was planning on doing.

Qrow had said that XCOM believed that Salem could wait, that her threat didn’t warrant action immediately. Naturally, Ruby felt the same as Ozpin – why let Salem do what she wanted without interference? The aliens weren’t _here_ yet, so why wait for them to come before doing anything? It didn’t make sense to Ruby. Though, Yang, Weiss and Pyrrha seemed just as stressed about it. So maybe the XCOM people were right?

Either way, Ruby wasn’t sure why only _now_ they had been called into the room they used for their discussions. Their commander was here, with General O’Neill, Tyson, and the one they kept calling Central. A map of Remnant was on the table, with various pins stuck in it for some reason. They looked stern, like they had been dreading this day for years. They were all around the table, but Commander Okorie, true to her title, took a dominating presence at the center of the room, her hands clasped behind her back.

“I have yet another favor to ask of you, Ozpin,” Commander Okorie said. “We have reports of an alien scout force at this location. Can you assist us in confirming if the aliens are here or not?”

Ozpin leaned against his cane, his eyes darting across the floor. After a few moments, he looked up at the Commander, a certain look to his eye. Ruby could tell right away – Ozpin had an idea. “Well, on one hand, I very much would like to get towards moving to _our_ original goal, of heading to Atlas for another Relic. If you assist us with that, we will assist you here.”

Commander Okorie paused, before nodding, a warm smile on her face. “This is acceptable. Central, would you like to give the briefing?”

Central nodded, clearing his throat. “We’ve got an alien sighting here. Rumors are sketchy, and the reports range from a squad, up to two platoons or more. Given your extensive knowledge of the area, we decided it would be best if you four were deployed there, with Lieutenant Holzmann acting as squad leader.”

“What?” Blake asked, arching an eyebrow. “Why? We can handle ourselves out there.”

“We have no idea how effective Dust weapons are against the aliens,” Central explained. “We need at least _one_ of us with a conventional weapon in order to be fully effective.”

Blake folded her arms, frowning. “I’m not agreeing to this,” she declared. Where was this coming from?

“You don’t _have_ to agree,” Tyson shot back. “It’s an _order.”_

“I don’t take orders from _you,”_ Blake retorted, narrowing her eyes. Weiss smacked Blake’s arm, incredulously staring at her.

“You’re right, you _don’t_ take orders from me,” he said, his expression unchanging. “Consider this, though. What if your weapons are ineffective against the aliens? What then?”

“What if _your_ weapons don’t work either?”

_“Enough!”_ Commander Okorie slammed her fist on the table, scattering pins and surprising more than a few present. A frown was planted on her face, replacing the warm smile she had earlier, clearly unhappy with the argument that was in its infancy. “Lieutenant, I would advise against antagonizing the local forces. We will need their assistance and cooperation when the aliens come.”

Blake shook her head and rolled her eyes. “We have _names,_ you know.”

“And _you,_ young one,” she said, pointing a finger at Blake. “You should learn the value of respecting the decisions of others. You may not believe it, but we are working towards the same goal here.”

“Understood, Commander,” Tyson said. “Central, where exactly was this alien force sighted?”

_Back to business just like that,_ Ruby thought, marveling at how quickly he switched gears. Central nodded, pointing to an area on the coast. “We’ve narrowed the sightings down to this area. It’s about a one kilometer radius, give or take.”

Tyson hummed, looking over the map. “That’s a long trek, sir. Do we have transport?”

“Daniel’s provided us with a…well, I guess _helicopter_ isn’t the right word for it,” General O’Neill said. “We don’t have anyone trained to fly it yet, but Daniel’s more than willing to cart you there and back.”

“Search and destroy?” Tyson asked.

“Don’t risk yourselves if they’re too strong,” Commander Okorie said. “I would rather have you all come back alive and wounded than in boxes.”

“Understood,” Tyson said, sharply nodding. “I have nothing further.”

“Do any of you have questions?” Central asked, looking over RWBY. Ruby herself certainly didn’t have any – Weiss and Yang seemed to have the idea, and Blake still stood there, stoically staring with her arms folded.

“Alright then,” he said. “Wheels up in 10.”

Opening the door wide, Tyson turned around for just a moment. “Don’t be late!”

* * *

Ruby checked her pack for the fourth time, making sure she had what she needed. Extra Dust, copious amounts of water, some food, a solar-powered Scroll charger, oil and lubricants for Crescent Rose. Her Scroll was fully charged. She had another bag, a bigger one that had clothes, a hat in case it rained, a bedroll, and all the things she needed to keep herself clean and fresh while on the trail. Seemed like everything they’d need, right? How long could they be gone? She and her team headed out to their waiting transport, a cargo ship by the looks of it. Tyson stood at the lowered ramp, holding a long weapon and staring at his watch.

“You’re late,” he announced, glaring at them as he stepped onto the ramp. “Come on, we need to go _now.”_

“Sorry,” Ruby said, already dreading the trip. If Tyson was going to be as hair-trigger with his anger as he had been at Daniel’s house, this might not be pleasant ride. Next to him, he had a large bag, bigger than any on her team. The bag was cylindrical, a solid green. “Uh, excuse me, sir? Uh, what’s all in the bag?”

Tyson glanced up at her, cocking an eyebrow. “The sorts of things I imagine you _forgot._ Towels, lot of socks, light source, light duty medicine, cold weather gear.”

“We’re not stupid,” Blake said, scowling at him. “What’s even the plan when we get on the ground anyway?”

“You’ll find out,” he replied, leaning back and pulling his cap over his face. Within mere seconds it seemed, he was asleep. The dull rumbling of the engines came to the forefront as RWBY fell silent, wondering if they had really seen their supposed “squad leader” fall asleep right in from of them.

“Does this always happen with these people?” Blake asked, gesturing to Tyson.

Yang shrugged. “Captain Rex was pretty on the ball about things.”

“He was,” Weiss added. “I think you would have liked him, Blake.”

Blake merely rolled her eyes, sighing. “If he was anything like _this_ guy, I think not.”

Checking her Scroll’s map, Ruby saw they had a long way to go. It didn’t look like much on the map they had in that planning room, but now that she could really, _truly_ see it drawn out? It’d be a while.

Ruby should have brought a comic book.

* * *

Two hours later, their transport touched down. Tyson was last off, waving it away as the engines picked up and it ascended into the sky. Tyson paused, consulting his map. “Alright,” he said, “we’re going to go that way, call it about two klicks.”

“Two _what?”_ Blake asked.

He sighed pensively, slowly shaking his head. “Kilometers. Guessing you don’t have those here, either.”

“It’s not _that_ far,” Yang said, shrugging. “I don’t think we’ll run into too many Grimm out here.”

“Let’s hope not,” Blake muttered, her long white coat flowing behind her as the wind picked up.

Time to get underway. Tyson didn’t have them follow any paths, claiming that it was “too obvious” and it was easier to track a direct route to their destination rather than try to take the roads. Ruby could feel the tension as they walked, but it wasn’t due to any Grimm. No, it was more emanating from Tyson and Blake, both parties no doubt still seething over the argument earlier in the day. She could see it plainly – Blake always stole glances over to him, as if wary of betrayal at any second. Tyson didn’t often look over, but Ruby could see him scanning the horizon almost like he was tracking something, continually going back and forth. His massive weapon looked heavy – didn’t it have some kind of slim mode for transportation?

“Hi, uh, excuse me, Tyson?” Ruby asked, picking up the pace to match with his.

“It’s _Lieutenant Holzmann_ to you,” he snapped.

If she could, Ruby would have shrunk, recoiling at the sudden harsh tone. “Oh, uh, sorry… um, I just wanted to ask about your weapon, is all!”

“What about it?”

Ruby swallowed, trying to find the right words. “Well, uh… it’s not Dust, right? ‘Cause you guys don’t have that? So what is it?”

“It’s an MG3, general purpose machine gun. Fires 7.62x51mm NATO rounds from disintegrating belt links,” he rattled off, as if he had answered this a million times before. “Anything else?”

“Is that the name, MG3?” Ruby asked. “Why’d you give it that name?”

He looked at her quizzically, before returning to his scanning. “I didn’t name it that. It’s just what it’s called.”

“Why carry a weapon without a name?” Blake asked.

“Because a weapon’s a tool,” he replied. “Means to an end. It doesn’t need some fancy name attached to it.”

Ruby blinked, looking over the so-called MG3. He seemed at least somewhere interested in talking about it – maybe after this, Tyson would let her take a look at it. Or maybe not – she couldn’t tell with him quite yet. Either way, Ruby didn’t feel like bothering him anymore, and fell back to her place in their march.

“Okay, listen up,” Tyson announced after about half an hour of walking. “As you heard, rumors claim small alien force. Might be a squad-sized element, maybe a platoon or more. Either way, we’re outnumbered.”

“Gee, what wonderful odds,” Blake commented, rolling her eyes.

“If the aliens hold to their usual deployments,” Tyson continued, ignoring Blake, “should be some troopers and at least one officer, maybe a Sectoid. Xiao Long, Schnee, either of you brief your friends on the various aliens?”

“Gave them the basics,” Yang replied.

Tyson sighed. “Good enough. Alright, here’s how this is going to work. Xiao Long, Belladonna, you two are my eyes and ears. I need you forward 100 meters at all times. Rotate back for verbal reports if necessary, but keep contact on your Scrolls if you spot something.”

“Sounds good,” Yang said.

“Wait, how far is a hundred meters?”

“I’ll show you, don’t worry,” Yang replied, already preparing to head forward.

“Rose, you’ve got that sniper, knock down threats before they get too close. Schnee, you’re on support. I need you to shut down flankers before they get too close and help Rose and I in case they _do._ Feel free to move up to support Xiao Long and Belladonna, but your primary job is here.”

“What does that make you, then?” Weiss asked.

“I’m centerpiece,” he said. “I’ll be suppressing the aliens and making sure they can’t move up.”

Ruby cleared her throat, causing Tyson to turn his head towards her. “Uh, Lieutenant, we… _have_ some tactics we already use-”

“Yeah,” he said, cutting her off. “I’ve heard of your little plans. All of them rely on having single targets to isolate and take down. If the aliens learned even one thing from the war, they won’t let any of you isolate their units for even a minute.”

Yang did a 180, walking backwards to look at Ruby. “Hate to say it, sis, but he’s got a point. The aliens don’t let themselves get cut off.”

“This isn’t our first fight,” Blake said. “Why are we even taking orders from you? You’ve seen us in action.”

“You’re right, it’s not. It’s your first fight against the _aliens._ You two haven’t fought them before, and they’re entirely different from the Grims.”

“Grimm,” Weiss reminded him.

Blake scoffed, shaking her head. “Ruby and I aren’t idiots. We can handle ourselves.”

“I’m sure you can,” Tyson replied. “Listen, I’m just trying to make sure we come out of this alive. Follow the plan, and we’ll be fine.”

Another hour later, and they had arrived at the first point to search. Tyson ordered them to keep their heads “on a swivel”, which he later clarified to mean to scan for any hostile contacts. Rolling hills marked the scene, with a small cluster of trees popping up here and there. No Grimm, at least none that had apparently decided to head their way. Ruby could hear something off in the distance, but what was it?

“Got footprints here,” Blake reported. “It looks like they’re heading that way.” She pointed towards the coast. If Ruby remembered the map right, that was still within their search radius.

“Good work, Belladonna,” Tyson said, ordering them to follow the tracks as best they could. Yang came back for another report – no Sectoid footprints, or at least none she could see. It looked like the aliens had come within sight of the village, and then turned to the coast for whatever reason.

The ground was soft, but not so soft as to make it overly spongy. Tracks must be relatively fresh, then. After another ten minutes of tracking, Blake came back, saying that she saw what might be a camp. Tyson ordered the entire squad forward so he could personally observe what it was that Blake had seen.

They stopped at the crest of a hill, with Tyson lying prone and crawling is way over the top. Down at a valley, flanked by slopes on three sides, stood a handful of black-clad people wielding weapons she didn’t recognize. One decked out in a red suit and cape stood over a folding table, analyzing some kind of hologram. She couldn’t tell, but it might have been a map of Remnant. On her right, Tyson was peering through a pair of binoculars, muttering something in a language she didn’t understand.

“Six troopers and an officer,” he said, louder this time as he put away the binoculars. “Bog standard deployment.”

“What’s the plan?” Yang asked, charging Dust into Ember Celica.

Tyson pulled his machine gun forward, unfolding a bipod and resting it on the ground. “We’ve got the height advantage on them. I want to play that as much as possible. Xiao Long, Belladonna, you two comfortable charging down that hill at them?”

“What good is _that_ going to do?” Blake asked, raising an eyebrow.

“I need you two to screen them,” he explained. “They don’t know how large a force we are. Rose, Schnee and I can maintain fire on them before they figure it out.”

“That sounds suicidal,” Blake replied, unimpressed. “Why not just force them to come to us?”

He shook his head emphatically. “More likely to break contact and call up reinforcements. We hit them hard and fast, do our mission. Search and destroy.”

“So, while we’re down there,” Yang asked, “what are you three going to be doing?”

“Like I said, maintaining fire. Rose, reckon you can nail that officer? He’s the one in red, in case you forgot.”

Ruby put Crescent Rose into its long-range sniping configuration, resting its blade on the ground to provide a stable shooting platform. Range looked alright, wasn’t _too_ far away. She’d made this shot before, could do it again. “I think so,” she reported.

“I need better than ‘think’. Can you do it or not?”

She peered back down her scope, watching the officer move – or more accurately, _not_ move. If he kept poring over the map like this, it’d be an easy shot. “Yes,” she said, more confident this time.

“Alright, good. Xiao Long, Belladonna, get as close as you can. Rose, kill that officer before he can call up a shock squad or something. Schnee, do your best to support us all.”

Ruby took a deep breath, watching her scope’s crosshairs become still. She could see Yang and Blake speeding down, assisted by Weiss’s glyphs. Tyson had ordered Ruby to open fire whenever she was ready – until then, all was quiet. The aliens had seen Yang and Blake descending, shouting something incomprehensible. Officer was just now reacting to it, time to fire. One squeeze of the trigger later, and he was gone. Orange blood spilled out of his head, and the hologram flickered as he collapsed on top of it.

Ruby just now noticed that the aliens had cover in the form of a handful of freshly-fallen trees. Had they done this, or did the villagers come this far out for wood? She could hear weapons fire, not just Tyson’s machine gun clattering in her ear, but Yang and Blake’s weapons too. Ruby worked Crescent Rose’s bolt, ejecting a spent Dust cartridge and chambering a new one as she looked down the scope again, centering her sights on a trooper as red streaks of light zipped and bounced against the ground. She soon figured out these red streaks corresponded to bursts from Tyson’s machine gun.

The screams of dying aliens filled the air, mixed with the sound of the machine gun echoing horribly across the land. One by one, the aliens fell, their blood spilling on the green grass. It felt surreal. Ruby was used to killing Grimm, but they didn’t have a soul, it was easy to justify. These aliens looked like her and her friends. She remembered hearing something about how the aliens all had their minds linked or something – could each one feel the pain of losing one another? It made her sick to think about it. Maybe it was better to just ignore it for now.

As their fire died down, Blake came back up the slope to them, gesturing wide with her arms. “I thought you said this was going to be hard?”

“Usually is,” Tyson called back. “These guys were rear-line, mostly meant to handle partisans and light rebels. Not us.”

“Well, even then, Lieutenant,” Weiss said, “we didn’t have much of a problem taking them out on Earth.”

“Aliens had armor about equal to ours there,” he explained. “I had to hit them at least twenty times each just now. On Earth, one or two rounds would do them in for good.”

“What are you saying, then?” Blake asked.

Tyson held up a finger, grabbing a rectangular device on his shoulder and bringing it up to his face. “Baseplate, this is Archer Actual, do you read, over.”

He waited a few seconds, much to Ruby and Blake’s confusion. After about thirty seconds, a garbled, static-filled reply came through. “We read you, but it’s hazy,” someone said. Wait, no, it was the one they called Central. “What’s your status?”

“Made contact with alien scout force, eliminated with extreme prejudice. No, repeat, no casualties sustained, break.” He paused for a second, looking out over their destruction. “Found difficulty in prosecuting targets, how copy, over?”

“Define ‘found difficulty’ there, Archer Actual. With Dust weaponry? Over.”

“Negative, with conventional weapons. Interrogative, were all weapons checked per standards prior to mission, over?”

Silence. “Can confirm, all weapons were checked and cleared for operational duty. Send coordinates to Jackson, he’ll rendezvous with you to bring you back to base. Shen requests alien armor sample for analysis, over.”

“Understood, Archer Actual out.” Tyson put the device back on its clasp, making his way down the hill. “Schnee, ping our location to Jackson.”

Weiss did as asked, hesitantly following Tyson down. Blake, Yang and Ruby fell in behind him as well as he started taking a look at one of the aliens. He tugged at their black armor, muttering something quietly. Almost as if he were a character in one of the detective comics she had read, he glanced over at the trooper’s rifle next, examining it with a scrutinizing eye.

“What is it?” Yang asked, lazily kicking the trooper’s leg.

“Something’s different about this weapon,” Tyson said, his eyes focused on the rifle. “I’m going to have Shen take a loot at it when get get back.”

Tyson took the black-painted rifle, tossing it on top of the dead alien as he did so. The alien blood smelled strange – not at all like the iron smell of human blood, but more like…maybe copper, or something. It was metallic, but a metal that she couldn’t quite place. Twenty minutes later, Jackson arrived and with Yang’s help, they loaded the alien and his rifle into the transport. Ruby couldn’t wait to get back to base, out of this transport. Having the thing next to her on the entire way back was positively spine-chilling.

* * *

Blake hated being called to the common area. It was bad enough they had given up the comfortable rooms at their house, now they had to put up with this? It made her nervous being in here. Too many people, too many exits, too many places to watch. Not enough familiar faces, not enough friends she could trust.

Blake let out a short huff as the words crossed her mind. God, she had already lost Weiss as a friend, she was pretty sure. They hadn’t talked much lately. And Yang…memories of hugs that weren’t long enough, quiet nights when they stargazed, dreaming of a better future, all flooded back to her like someone had opened the gates. Ironically, she had never _wanted_ her relationship with Yang to fail. She had felt herself getting closer and closer to Yang, wanted to have _something_ with her.

It was just Blake’s luck that, in all the times they had talked, she could never articulate what she wanted. And then, with running away, throwing all the friendships she had made out with the garbage…love had only ever thrown her down the stairs. As if a parade of bad memories was ongoing, she suddenly remembered how she had smacked away Yang’s hand when they found out Pyrrha was still alive, rejecting anything she may have wanted to do and destroying whatever goodwill was left between them.

Sometimes, Blake wished the world would swallow her whole, so that she wouldn’t have to deal with this anymore. Unfortunately, though, that wasn’t the plan today. XCOM’s soldiers, along with RWBY, Jaune, Ren and Nora, and even Qrow for some reason, had been called together, assembled here for an enigmatic purpose.

“I hear they’re putting squads together today,” Yang said, answering a question Blake hadn’t heard. “Just saying, if they put me in a squad with Moira, I’m shooting her.”

Blake blinked, brought back to reality like a snap. “You… you never really explained that. What did she do other than the genocide thing?”

“She’s fucking insane,” Yang spat, frowning. “Moira experimented on people, joined the aliens first chance, and only joined _us_ when it was clear they were losing. She doesn’t care about what happens to people, as long as _she_ gets something out of it.”

“You injure me.”

Blake jumped, whipping around to see Moira standing behind her, an evil grin on her face. Her fingers cascaded up and down, almost like a witch casting a spell on her. Before she was even cognizant of it, Blake’s hand was on one half of Gambol Shroud, her heart beating a million miles a second.

Yang scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Are you here for something, or just scaring my friends?”

“Ah, yes,” Moira said, looking over Blake with a sickening curiosity. “The Faunus. If only I could learn more about you…”

 _“_ _Over my dead body,”_ Blake growled.

“I see _some of you_ are taken in by Amari’s propaganda,” Moira replied, frowning. “How disappointing. I thought at least _one_ of you would have heeded my words on the _Avenger.”_

“How’s about this,” Yang said, squaring up for a fight. “Kindly _fuck off_ and leave me and my friends alone. You’re on _my_ turf now. I’d play nice if I were you.”

Moira cackled, her grin returning in devilish force. “Strong words. The true struggle, however, is for the superiority of ideas.”

“What’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Yang asked, her fists clenched.

“Still so desperate to resort to violence first. Biology’s habits are hard to break.” She disappeared in a purple haze, but not without bidding a final “farewell” as she faded away.

Slowly, Blake took her hand off Gambol Shroud. Yang let out a deep breath, probably to release the tension she had built up in herself.

“I can see why you don’t like her,” Blake said, sighing.

Heavy boots. Blake looked to the entrance. XCOM’s captains – Price and Amari, if she remembered their names right – walked in, a piece of paper in Price’s hand. What were they about to do? Was this the squad thing that Yang was talking about earlier?

“Alright, listen up,” Price announced. “Time to get squad assignments. Good news, a lot of you should be back with familiar people, but we have had to split a few groups up. If you’re unhappy, I suggest you take it up with Amari.”

 _Well, this is less than interesting,_ Blake thought. Who cared about this? Why did it even _matter?_ She sighed, rolling her eyes as she waited for this to be over. Maybe then she could get back to something important.

“Bravo 1-1,” Price announced, going down the list in his hand. “I’m squad leader. Grün, Wu, Svenson, Harkov.”

The called soldiers nodded, heading forward. Blake spotted a woman with black hair, a man that reminded her of Sun, and two other men with dark hair, each one wearing their strange outfits.

“Echo 1-2,” Price continued. “Captain Amari’s squad leader. Holzmann, Xiao Long, Schnee, Rose, Belladonna.”

Blake blinked, trying to figure out if this was right. Surely it wasn’t right? What point was there to attaching these two people to team RWBY? Maybe Price had it wrong, would fix it as he went down the list.

“Misfit 1-3, Killip’s squad leader. Lieutenant O’Deorain, Sergeant Shuyi, Sergeant Dudley, Branwen. Delta 1-4, Freeman’s squad lead. Sergeant Nikos, Arc, Valkyrie, Ren. Go on then, group up! Get the faces with the names.”

Okay, so that blew _that_ theory out of the water. Blake folded her arms as Amari and Tyson approached, cautiously eyeing them. Again, Amari somehow had a full set of tea for them all. “I’m _not_ thrilled about this,” she announced.

“That’s fine,” Amari said, setting down the tray and handing out cups. “Don’t worry, I won’t slow you children down.”

Blake sighed, taking a cup of tea. Not too hot, but not cold either. How did she manage that? “That’s not exactly what I mean, ma’am.”

“May as well get ahead of this,” Tyson said, resting his cup on the small plate provided for him. “I get the sense you don’t trust me, Belladonna, and that’s fine. I don’t really care. What I do care about, and have confidence in, is the ability of every soldier here to do their jobs.”

“I’m not a _soldier,”_ she said, narrowing her eyes at him. “I’m a Huntress.”

“Children, please. Not over tea. Don’t let this affect field work.”

“This really is wonderful tea, Ana,” Weiss said, no doubt in an effort to avoid this conversation.

“Yes,” Blake added, desperate to change the subject as well. “Thank you, Captain.”

Amari nodded, smiling. “Call me Ana, children. And yes, I _do_ mean you, Lieutenant.”

“Come on, Amari, you know how I am.”

“Unfortunately, yes, but I believe we can all change if given time.”

Ruby cleared her throat, setting the tea down for a moment. “So, how is this going to work? I still don’t think I understand.”

“Here?” Amari – no, Ana – said, gesturing to the base. “Do not worry about it. All I ask of you is that you show up for missions when called upon. In the field, I’m the highest authority, then Tyson, and then Yang.”

“Wait,” Yang said, her eyebrows shooting up. “When did I get a promotion?”

“Price argued you deserved it,” Ana said, smiling softly. “You and Weiss both. Congratulations on making _raqib.”_

“Congratulations, Yang,” Weiss said, practically beaming.

Setting down the cup, Ana cleared her throat. “So. I trust you all know your roles. I do not think I need to go over that with you. Tyson has already given me some details about your fighting styles and capabilities, and I have full confidence in our ability to work together. So long as you respect one another and the leadership in place, we will get along fine.”

“So, what happens if you can’t lead us?” Blake asked.

Ana nodded, gesturing to Tyson. “Command passes to Tyson first, and then to Yang. After that… well, I would believe our unit so decimated that it would be better to merge with another.”

Blake nodded, understanding but not necessarily buying into it. The continual passing of the buck seemed more like an excuse, a way to hand off responsibility. The idea of being subordinate to a terrorist like Tyson was far from appealing, but in the end, she figured she didn’t really have a choice.

“Echo 1-2!” Central shouted, drawing all eyes in the room to him. “We have a confirmed alien sighting in Mistral! Get your gear and get rid of them!”


	5. Dezinformatsiya

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aliens attack Mistral. Price discovers something he was never meant to know.

Even from this far away, Blake could hear the sound of alien rifle fire echoing off of Mistral’s tall buildings. Long, disgusting pillars of black smoke crept up from the city, marring Remnant’s blue skies. Were those screams she heard, or the roars of distant Grimm? The pounding of her heart, working overtime as she sprinted to get to the source of the gunfire, practically matched with each footstep she and her team made.

“Central!” Tyson shouted into his radio. “Any new intel? Did we get a flyover?”

“Negative on the flyover. All sorts of reports, be prepared for anything. Baseplate out.”

Ana ordered them to pick up the pace – as if they could run any faster – as they made their way to a large open area. Looked like a square. Lots of shops around, tall multistory skyscrapers all around. So many dead people all over the square, their blood cascading down into a fountain. They had been lured in here and executed like they didn’t matter.

“What _happened_ here?” Ruby asked, her voice shaky.

“Contact front!” Tyson shouted, crouching down next to a stack of boxes and opening fire. Blake tracked his red-tipped bullets, watching them rip through a building. A strange, gray-skinned creature with massive eyes howled at them. This clearly wasn’t a Grimm. The bullets tore holes in the building as it jumped down, joined at the bottom by more alien troopers dressed in black.

“Officer!” Yang called out, flanking right. The sound of Tyson’s machine gun and Ana’s rifle filled the air, alongside Crescent Rose firing.

Blake heard a roaring, but it wasn’t a Grimm. No, she knew that immediately. As alien rifle fire crossed the scene, only just missing Blake as she moved to keep up with Yang, a massive green and purple monster burst out from one of the buildings, holding a weapon that had a strange green energy emanating from it, a bloodied, serrated blade on the end. Wait, this was what Weiss had called a… Mutonic? Something like that. Yang didn’t waste time, charged right up to it and punched it square in the jaw. This blow sent it careening back into the building it came from, crashing through two more behind it.

Time to get to work. Blake unholstered Gambol Shroud, spotting a yellow-tinged creature. Looked like a tiny King Taijitu if she didn’t know any better. It hissed at her as she unloaded a magazine into it, spitting a glob of who-knows-what at her and Yang.

“Acid!” Yang shouted, dodging the incoming projectile. “Don’t step in it!”

“On your right!” Blake called out, spotting a group of aliens moving towards Yang. A magazine from Gambol Shroud and a few choice shots from Yang’s gauntlets put them down for good.

A long machine gun burst broke out, drawing Blake’s attention away. Tyson was engaging a group of the gray things charging at them. One of them did… _something,_ and one of the alien troopers they had killed stood back up, groaning as it messily got off the ground.

Another one extended a long, bony finger directly at Blake, the same purple energy emanating from its forehead. Overwhelming _dread_ and fear hit her all at once, like she had just been slapped in the face. Something was wrong. Why was she feeling this? Why was it like she had just seen Adam’s brutality for the first time, saw how deranged he was?

_Why could she see him here, standing in front of her, holding Yang’s arm with that fucking smile on his face?_

Blake ran – not intentionally, but her flight or fight always picked flight – to cover near one of the few buildings that was still intact. This didn’t make sense. She was fine. Other than being in combat against aliens, yeah, she was perfectly fine. Blake looked down at her hands, seeing that they were alright. No blood, no dirt, nothing out of the ordinary. Whatever looming sense of dread and panic had overwhelmed her was gone, fading away like the dying wisps of a candle. Had that alien done this?

Wait a second.

The thought hit her like a bag of bricks. If the aliens were here, killing people, and influencing her thoughts like this…what would that do to the Grimm? They were _already_ attracted to negative emotion. She remembered how quickly they had overrun the city when Beacon fell. This must have been like putting up a giant flag, calling all Grimm on the entire continent.

Blake peeked out from her cover, watching the aliens and Echo trade fire. Bodies of countless aliens were scattered across the square. Ruby’s weapon was bloodstained, and she could see glyphs covering the ground. Yang was locked in combat with another one of those Mutonics. Blake shook her head, trying to get herself out of whatever cloud she had stuck her head into. _Focus. Get back in the fight._

With a short huff of air, Blake found renewed focus, breaking into a sprint to help Yang. Using Gambol Shroud’s ribbons to grab hold of the Mutonic’s leg. With a solid tug, it was thrown off its feet, roaring in frustration as it hit the ground and opening it up for Yang to pour round upon round of Dust-charged shots at it. As it let out a dying moan, Yang looked up at Blake, shooting her a thumbs-up and a smile.

She suddenly became aware of Crescent Rose’s lack of report, when just a few seconds ago it had been filling the air. Blake looked around, spotting Ruby propelling herself through the air, and on a path right for another Mutonic. The alien officer pointed at her, shouting something in its language. Without even hesitating for a second, the troopers surrounding the officer opened fire on Ruby, their bizarre red bullets seeming to break the very air around them as they flew up to the sky. It was like they were painting Ruby’s outline, and she could clearly hear a yelp from Ruby as she fell with all the grace of someone tumbling down the stairs.

“Ruby!” Yang yelled, charging through the alien lines to get to her. Blake followed closely behind, helping Yang take out aliens with the help of Gambol Shroud’s katana form. As she sliced her way through aliens, Blake could see Ruby on the ground, crumpled over like a bag as the Mutonic stood over her. Yang’s unrelenting war cry could probably be heard even from the remnants of Beacon as she wound up a fist, connecting hard and sending the beast flying.

“Are you okay?” Blake asked, helping Ruby on her feet with Yang.

Ruby coughed, shakily getting up. “Yeah, I’m good,” she said. Almost immediately, Weiss had joined them, her eyes wide with panic.

“Hey! You!” Tyson shouted, waving them over to his position. “Group back up here! More contacts incoming!”

Blake looked around, spotting some kind of ship flying in, but she didn’t recognize it as anything native to Remnant. It was all-black, with red lights – some kind of exhaust, maybe? - emanating from pole-like extensions that might have served as a means of stabilization. Another group of alien soldiers, accompanied by a red-painted robot, jumped down, landing hard.

“Oh fuck,” Yang muttered, grabbing Ruby and encouraging her to run. “Go, go, go!”

Blake began to run, dodging alien gunfire as it zipped past her, making her way to where Ana and Tyson were. Black marks from alien rifle fire dotted Mistral’s streets, and just beyond Tyson’s spot, she could see a small fire starting to spread already. She _still_ couldn’t tell if those distant roars were Grimm or more aliens.

“Baseplate,” Ana said, speaking into her radio. “We’re outgunned here, we need reinforcements! Enemy mechanized units spotted!”

“Understood, Echo Actual,” Central replied. “Sending Misfit now. They’ll be there in five minutes, hold out until then.”

Five _minutes?_ Blake wasn’t sure if they’d survive five _seconds_ against these things. The troopers flooded the square, taking unaimed shots at them as they ran. The robot with them, a massive thing with an even bigger weapon, slowly walked forward. The shots from its weapon were louder and deeper than anything Blake had ever heard, tearing massive holes in the buildings behind them. Tyson unleashed a long burst on it, but the robot shrugged the bullets off like it was nothing.

“Changing barrel!” Tyson shouted, tossing out a smoking-hot cylinder from his machine gun that clanged as it bounced on the pavement. Within seconds, he had pulled another one out from a bag on his back, sliding it into his weapon and resuming his fire.

“That armor’s too thick!” Ana reported. “Focus on the others, the rest of you, take down that mech!”

This she could work with. Ruby had taken to the air again, propelled herself up as Weiss froze the mech in place with one of her glyphs. Yang and Blake moved in tandem, dodging alien rifle fire and the oversized gun being fired at them. The mech crouched down for a second, small red rockets flying out from the tube on its back, nearly knocking Blake off her feet as one exploded near her. One roll later, and she was back to advancing.

Blake put Gambol Shroud back into its katana form, hacking away at the leg as she slid past it, but it didn’t do anything more than scratch the paint. Likewise, Yang was firing full blast at its torso, but she couldn’t even see it reacting to this assault.

“Fuck!” Yang shouted, dodging a lumbering swipe from the mech as it broke free of Weiss’s glyph. “This thing’s too tough!”

Blake looked to the sky, hearing another set of engines. Another alien ship, dropping two more mechs. Accompanying this was something even stranger – a fully black-clad human, with green accent lines on it. Didn’t its helmet have eyes so it could see?

“More mechs!” Weiss called out.

“Reloading!” Tyson shouted, his machine gun falling silent for a moment.

Blake began unloading magazines into the mech, hoping Fire Dust could help, but it didn’t look like it had any effect. Another shot from Crescent Rose, but no resulting ping. Confused, Blake looked up, spotting Ruby flying for the mech. Another shot from Crescent Rose, ejecting a massive cloud of black smoke, but instead of shooting it, Ruby used the momentum of the shot to swing her scythe at the mech. The thing warbled mechanically as it was sliced in half, electricity crackling as it fell.

“Don’t let that thing get too close!” Yang shouted, pointing at the black-clad alien. Blake watched it collapse, but instead of remaining coherent the limbs and body just… _fell apart,_ almost, as it turned into an incomprehensible mass of black and green that slithered across the broken concrete.

She tried to fire at it, stop it, but it moved far too fast for her to react to. It was almost like it was predicted her every shot, dodging before Blake even pulled the trigger. Helpless, Blake watched it head to Weiss, covering her with the black and green pieces. Perhaps more terrifyingly, a nebulous, similarly-colored and wispy version of Weiss replaced her as the woman herself collapsed on the ground, Myrtenaster falling uselessly by her side.

“Weiss?!” Ruby shouted, breaking off to head to her.

“Shit,” Yang muttered. “Ruby, no! That’s not Weiss!”

Yang’s pleas fell on Ruby’s deaf ears as she tried to grab the Weiss on the ground. As though it was rejecting the core of Weiss’s character, the copy harshly smacked Ruby as she neared, moving to strike her with a corrupted mimic of Myrtenaster. In the blink of an eye, Ruby dodged the incoming attack, unfurling Crescent Rose and swinging at the impostor. The fake Weiss reacted, but didn’t seem much worse for wear.

Time to take action. Blake got its attention, closed in with Yang and used her Semblance to make an ice copy of herself. Predictably, the fraud swung at the ice copy, its weapon caught in the ice. The sound of machine gun fire filled the air again as Yang and Blake started swinging at the fraud. It was like swinging into water, Weiss’s shape constantly fading and reforming like water against a beach.

Blake’s hack-and-slash attacks must have done something, or maybe it was Yang’s punches. Either way, the copy faded, disappearing like a Grimm as the heavy stomping of the mechs and rapid-fire alien bursts came closer. Blake turned just in time to see Qrow, along with the people from Misfit arrive. The sound of five more rifles filled the air as Misfit joined in on the chaos.

“Ruby!” Qrow shouted out, linking up with them. “How’d you take that thing out?”

“I cut it in half!” she yelled, heading over to Weiss, who was just now waking back up.

Weiss tried to lift herself up, but collapsed just as quickly, clutching her head. “Ugh,” she moaned. “What happened?”

“We can talk about it later!” Blake said, rearranging Gambol Shroud to start firing back.

Qrow moved up, practically grabbing Ruby and taking her with him to slice apart the machines. Another massive Mutonic, and two alien troopers. Blake lost track of the bullets and Dust as they flew to the aliens, only focused on keeping herself and her team alive. As the warbling and alien screams faded away, the shots too began to die down until only the crackling of fire could be heard.

Blake looked around, taking in Mistral’s destruction. Far too many buildings full of holes, wrecked storefronts and cracked pavement. At least one shop was completely flattened, bodies of both aliens and people all over. Orange and red blood mixed together until the two became impossible to separate. She sighed heavily, feeling her shoulders drop. On her shoulder, Blake felt an all-too-familiar metal hand, turning to see Yang. She was smiling, but that smile hid a lot of pain.

“Hey, we did pretty good out here today,” she said quietly.

“Not good enough,” Blake replied, shrugging off Yang’s hand and heading back to base.

“All clear,” Ana announced. “Thank you for your assistance, First Sergeant. It is appreciated.”

Killip nodded, replacing the magazine in his rifle. “No problem! Hannah! Mickey! Get your lazy asses over there and start dragging that hunk of scrap metal back to base!”

“Could have gone a lot better, Amari,” Tyson said, picking up the cooled barrel he had casually tossed away earlier. “Sloppy work. You know what Price always said -”

“I do, child. Who do you think he got it from?”

Tyson said nothing, wincing as he readjusted his grip on his massive weapon. As Blake, Yang, Ruby and Weiss passed him, he put a hand on Blake, stopping her almost dead in her tracks. What the hell was _he_ doing? Blake stared at his hand, before cocking an eyebrow at him.

“Want to explain what that was back there?” he asked, looking her in the eyes.

“What are you talking about?”

“I saw you break off, disengage the enemy,” Tyson said, his stare becoming cold and indifferent. “You didn’t tell us you were doing it. Could have gotten us killed.”

_“You_ didn’t tell me that these things can mess with people’s _minds,”_ Blake retorted, pushing his hand off. “That seems like a pretty important piece of information to me.”

Tyson shook his head, sighing heavily. “Maybe if you paid _attention_ when your friends _told_ you about the aliens, you’d have _known._ Xiao Long, is this your idea of a proper briefing? How come she doesn’t know?”

“Don’t try and pass this off! You _knew_ what we’d be heading into! You’re _all_ responsible!” Blake gestured to XCOM as a whole, sweeping her finger at all of them. “We should know what we’re up against!”

Tyson tilted his head, furrowing his brow at her. “Do you think any of _us_ got intel on these aliens when they started landing in our homes, blowing up our cities?! We had to learn all of this as they came up. You should consider yourself _lucky_ we even know they can do that in the first place!”

“You say that like I should be _thankful_ for this,” Blake said. “We had _enough_ problems without you bringing aliens with you. This was never our fight, and you just made saving _our_ world a lot harder, so thanks for nothing!”

“As if we ever wanted the aliens on Earth anyway!” Tyson shouted, throwing his arms wide. “It’s not our fault they decided we were useful to them!”

 _“Children!”_ Ana declared, stepped in between the two with a frown etched on her face. “This is no time for such arguments.”

“Oh, I’m not sure about that, Amari,” Moira said, smiling as she watched the proceedings. “It’s rather amusing watching your squad tear itself apart so soon.”

Ignoring Moira, Ana sighed, giving both Tyson and Blake a final disapproving look. “We will settle this later. We are heading back to base. I don’t want to hear another peep out of either of you.”

Well, that settled it. Tyson shook his head, mumbling something under his breath as he stalked away. Yang took Blake away as well, trying to distract her from the simmering anger beneath her. They _had_ to have known she had a point.

The walk back to base was quiet, and felt far longer than heading to the battle in Mistral.

* * *

Price would never get used to the local tech. Everything about it was so similar, but just not quite all there that it made transitioning fully difficult. On the other, there were some things that just fundamentally didn’t make sense to Price, no matter how much he tried to reconcile it in his mind. Things like the limitations of their comms tech – unable to cross continents, but could service these Scrolls almost anywhere as long as there was a relay tower? It broke almost every fundamental principle of radio technology he knew of.

Speaking of, his Scroll buzzed then and there. He pulled it out of his fatigue’s pocket, checking the screen. Amari’s face lit up the front, with the beginnings of a text message. One flick of his thumb later, the text was brought up in full.

_Trouble today. Lieutenant had vocal disagreement with Blake Belladonna. He respects you – impress upon him that we need to work together._

Price sighed. Holzmann was always fairly headstrong. This didn’t much surprise him, but he figured he would have cooled at least a little after Earth’s fall. He replied with a simple “OK” and left it at that, lighting up a cigar as he stuffed the Scroll back into his pocket. He might be brooding by now, given how long it’s been since they got back. He stuffed the Scroll back into his pocket, lighting up a cigar as he headed to Holzmann’s room.

“We need to take the Relic to Atlas?”

Price paused. Those words weren’t directed at him. No, that was Rose, one of Schnee’s friends. He looked up, seeing light from a door that was opened just a mere crack.

“That’s what Oz said.” Qrow Branwen. Right. The lanky, surly lad that was Xiao Long’s uncle. Silence.

“You’ve _got_ to be joking,” Schnee said. Judging by her tone, she wasn’t thrilled. Right, he remembered now. Schnee was from Atlas. Price made himself thin, standing against the wall and creeping up as close to the door as he dared to get a better shot at listening in. Ozpin and Qrow clearly didn’t want anyone else to hear about this, but why?

“I mean, bright side, we finally get out of this house!”

“Trust me, I’m not crazy about it either,” Branwen muttered. “And, without the Spring Maiden here to seal the Relic back in its vault, it’s our best option.”

“Atlas may be the safest kingdom we have at the moment, but their borders are closed,” one of them said. Must have been the quiet one. “General Ironwood called everyone back.”

“Eh, not everyone.” Low hum. Sounded like a Scroll being activated. “The city of Argus is a ways north of us and it’s the primary trading point between Anima and Solitas. They’ve got the largest Atlas military base outside the kingdom. There’s no way they’d leave it abandoned, and if we play our cards right, I think there’s a good chance we could convince them to escort us straight to Ironwood.”

Price restrained himself from humming in agreement, blowing smoke away from the doorway in case one of them had eagle eyes. Plan was sound so far.

“I mean, we _do_ have the missing heiress to the Schnee Dust Company…”

 _“Ex-_ heiress, actually,” Schnee corrected.

“True,” Xiao Long chimed in. “But if there’s a chance of reward money, I say we go for it.”

“Hopefully, the first option will suffice.” Ozpin. Must have come in from somewhere else.

“Glad to see you’re feeling better,” Branwen said.

“Indeed. While I’m sure we could all use some time to recover, I’m afraid time is of the essence.”

“Right,” Belladonna agreed. “As long as that thing’s out in the open, its power could fall into the wrong hands. Like these XCOM people.”

“What does it _do,_ exactly?” Arc asked. “Qrow never really told us.”

Metal lightly clanged against itself, followed by the tell-tale noise of metal making contact with a tabletop. “Of course,” Ozpin said. “The Relic of Knowledge has a wonderful, and incredibly dangerous ability. Its user can ask any question, and the lamp will provide an answer.”

So _that’s_ why Ozpin kept that thing on his hip all the time. Price had figured it for some sort of religious item or something, the way he seemed to protect it with his life.

“Intriguing…”

“That’s incredible,” Belladonna muttered.

“Indeed. However, it’s not without its drawbacks. The lamp cannot tell of events that have yet to happen, and it will only ever answer three questions every hundred years.”

Price could hear Xiao Long whistling, impressed. “Well, I guess that’s not so bad. Adds a _lot_ of pressure, though.”

The excitable one, Valkyrie, started talking too fast for him to keep up as he mulled over the power of this thing. Belladonna was right, if one ignored her suspicions – if that thing got in the alien’s hands, their fight was effectively over. Having that kind of power was almost criminal.

“I’m afraid you won’t be able to ask it anything at the moment,” Ozpin said, chuckling. “The questions were used before I sealed it away.”

He’d heard enough. Price stepped off, keeping his footsteps light so as not to arouse suspicion. Pulling out his Scroll, he shot off a text to the Commander, asking her to call up whoever could be most trusted to keep a secret. This was practically groundbreaking news, but it warranted actual discussion with the Commander on how best to proceed.

_Meet in the Command Room in 5._

* * *

Price puffed away at his cigar, watching as O’Neill, Shen, Tygan, Holzmann, Amari and O’Deorain filtered in. Central and the Commander flanked him, with a map of Remnant on the table as per usual.

“So, what’s the big news?” O’Neill asked, casually leaning back on a chair.

Central and the Commander both looked at Price, and he watched as all eyes in the room turned on him. Tapping away ashes on his cigar, he cleared his throat. “Right. So, the local contact, Ozpin. He’s been hiding something from us. You’ve all seen that little lamp he’s got on his hip?”

Heads bobbing up and told down him all he needed to know. They all had seen it. Good, that’d make this easier, wouldn’t have to go over the description of the thing with them.

“Overheard a conversation he was having with our supposed _allies._ That trinket on his hip is a powerful relic, allows its user to ask it a question, and the thing’ll answer. Only limitations – it can’t tell you the future, and it only answers three questions every 100 years. Guess how many the lad’s used up.”

The looks of surprise on everyone’s faces wasn’t unexpected. Frankly, Price didn’t quite buy it himself – a bloody lamp that told you anything you wanted to know? Seemed fantastical, and he had seen some completely absurd things in his time fighting the aliens.

O’Neill scoffed, shaking his head. “You know, I really thought that just _once_ we’d get a break. Do we know how long it’s been?”

“No idea,” Price said. “He’s being cagey about it.”

“We should seize this relic from them,” O’Deorain said, steepling her fingers. “If they’re hiding this power from us, should we really trust them?”

“Such rash actions shouldn’t be necessary,” Commander Okorie said, her hands clasped behind her back. “As much as this deceit pains me, we must respect the decisions of our newfound allies. They know more about this world than we do.”

Tygan stroked his chin, no doubt puzzling over the abilities of this relic, as Amari and Holzmann merely stood there stoically.

“Furthermore,” Price continued, gesturing to the map. “They’ve made plans to take this relic to a city called Argus, north of us. There, they hope to use Schnee’s influence to get them access to the Kingdom of Atlas.”

“Why do they need her?” Holzmann asked, shrugging. “Seems like a waste of a trip.”

“According to them, Atlas has closed its borders, and since Schnee is heiress to the Schnee Dust Company, they anticipate they’ll be allowed passage to escort her back,” Price answered.

Central began leaning over the table, looking over the map. “I don’t suppose we have any intel on this Argus?”

“None here,” O’Neill said. “I can poke Daniel about it, see if he knows anything. Can’t guarantee it, though, he’s sort of out of the loop on a lot of things.”

“Something doesn’t make sense to me, though,” Central continued. “Why take it to Atlas? What’s the purpose behind that?”

“Not sure,” Price said, shrugging. “They talked a lot about not having someone to seal up the vault, how Atlas was the safest place for this relic.”

“Vault?” O’Neill repeated, arching his eyebrows. “Why do they need a _vault_ for this thing?”

Looking down on them, O’Deorain sneered. “I would wager there’s no _legitimate_ reason behind it. Perhaps they assign some sort of bewitching power upon this relic, unaware it’s actually something far more simple like radiation or blood poisoning.”

“They’re smarter than we think,” Price said. “Their tech is roughly comparable to ours before the invasion.”

“Alright, well, either way they’re hiding things from us,” Holzmann declared. “What’s our next move, Commander?”

Commander Okorie let out a slow, deliberate sigh, folding her arms. “Trust, but verify. We will work with them, but we cannot assume they are withholding information out of malice.”

“Respectfully, Commander,” O’Deorain said, “if they withhold _this_ from us, what _else_ are they not revealing?”

“That is for them to know, and for us to find out if they so desire. You are all-”

“Uh, actually Commander, I have some news,” Shen said, clearing her throat. “I finished examining the weapon that Lieutenant Holzmann brought in, and I have to report that it’s twice as lethal as any alien weapon we’ve ever encountered.”

“What are you saying, Shen?” Central asked, leaning against the table.

She drew a sharp breath, wincing. “Well, our armor is completely inadequate. It tore through it like it was paper. As if _that_ wasn’t bad enough, ballistics tests and a working theory tell me that if anyone is hit by this, they’ll likely be suffering major and rapid organ destruction. It hits seven times harder than an M16.”

“So, don’t get shot,” O’Neill concluded. “Well, wasn’t like I was planning on it _before..._ ”

“This is certainly distressing news,” the Commander said. “Do you know if our allies are affected in the same way?”

“I’m not sure exactly. The way Aura was explained to me, it sounds similar, but I’m not exactly seeking to test alien weapons on _human_ subjects.”

Moira scoffed, rolling her eyes. “We could get the Faunus to do it, that Belladonna girl. Better to know than give them false hope.”

“I’m not like _you,_ Moira,” Shen shot back, glaring at her. “I’m not pulling the trigger on a live subject.”

“If you’re unwilling, I’d be able to do so as long as you can record the results,” O’Deorain replied, nonplussed as if she were asking to tackle a high school science project.

“Alright, that is enough,” Commander Okorie said. “If there is nothing else, you are all dismissed.”

* * *

The lack of alien probing attacks made Tyson uneasy. A day after the fight at Mistral, a large Grimm attack had ensured, which resulted in the local forces locked in a four hour-long fight with them as XCOM could do little else but support and provide distracting fire, but that was not the fight Tyson had aimed to involve himself in. What was their mission here if not to ensure the aliens would not destroy another world? Fighting on Earth was brutal enough, and the aliens had shown they no longer cared to simply occupy anymore. It had been four days since the battle at Mistral, and he wasn’t sure how long the aliens would wait around.

At least the beds were decent. He rose from his bed a little later today than usual, noting O’Deorain’s bunk was empty. Freeman was still sound asleep, man could sleep through a full-fledged attack unless someone kicked him awake. Shuyi’s bunk was unoccupied as well, might have been exercising. She did Chairman Mao’s exercises before going to breakfast.

Heading out to the hallway, Tyson spotted Dudley, looking ragged as hell. What the hell had happened to him? He didn’t hear any gunfire.

“Yo,” Dudley said, lazily rubbing his face. “Next time Moira wants to skip out on watch, can you fuckin’ tell her to get someone to cover for her?”

Tyson frowned, furrowing his brow. “What the hell? O’Deorain didn’t relieve you last night?”

“Nah, she fuckin’ left me hanging.”

“Well, you know where she is? She’s not in her bunk.”

Dudley shrugged, walking past him to head to the kitchen. “No idea, dude. I’m gonna get some sleep.”

“Yeah, you’ve earned it,” he muttered. Where the _fuck_ had O’Deorain gone? It wasn’t like her to just disappear. But, then again, he knew this was not the first time O’Deorain had elected to up and abandon XCOM in a critical juncture. No need to go to the dark side yet. Could always be a reason behind it. Maybe she was unaware she had watch, as unlikely as that sounded.

The more he sought out O’Deorain, the less he liked that theory. She wasn’t dumb, if anything she rarely let anyone forget how smart she was, how _superior_ her intellect was compared to them. Her knowledge was a badge of pride for O’Deorain, one she relentlessly showed off to anyone who would – and in most cases, wouldn’t – listen.

He checked the gym, asking Shuyi if she had seen O’Deorain. Nothing. Kitchen was empty. Common room was dead this time of day. Not even Tygan had spotted her in the labs. Without any other context, it was almost like O’Deorain had just up and disappeared, never even existed on Remnant in the first place.

It was on his third sweep of the half-finished base that Price approached him, a cigar in his mouth and a bemused look on his face. “Holzmann, you’re going to burn a hole in the floor. What’s got you wound up today?”

“Sir, O’Deorain’s MIA. Didn’t relieve Dudley last night on watch, and I can’t find any trace of her.”

He hummed, stoic-faced as he stood there with his arms folded. “Let me ping her Scroll.” He tapped away on the little device, staring at it for several seconds. “Nothing. Well, we can’t track it, so how’s about this. Go ahead and go through her things, see if you can find anything out.”

“You don’t think-”

“Right now I don’t think anything,” Price replied. “I’d rather _not_ entertain the thought she might have defected. _Again._ See if you can find anything out from her personal effects, let me know as soon as you do.”

Tyson nodded, heading back to his shared room with O’Deorain. Freeman, still snoring, hadn’t moved an inch. One of O’Deorain’s coats hung on the bunk, held up by a simple hook she had fashioned out of something. He knew the left drawers were Shuyi’s, he had seen her putting her things in there. Right-side drawers must have been O’Deorain’s, then.

He slid the topmost drawer open, spotting the usual casual clothes for her, a hodgepodge of neatly folded labcoats, button-up shirts, and dress pants alongside rolled up belts. Old combat rigs she had used, often _did_ use now that armor was no longer necessary for them. Usual shoes, both casual and combat boots. Why would she _leave_ all this stuff behind if she were leaving? Perhaps she had been taken, maybe the aliens had used a Faceless to convince her to come in, whisk her away in the dead of night.

But that theory didn’t make sense either. Dudley was on watch last night, he’d have seen her leave with someone, and the aliens were never subtle. Someone would have seen or heard the dropship that brought the Faceless. And, if she had been taken by a Faceless, who would have had the sway to convince her to leave? Why hadn’t he, or anyone else in the room heard something? It just didn’t make any amount of sense.

He found two more items, hidden under clothing. Notebook and her Scroll. This was even stranger. Why would she leave this behind? He opened up the notebook, finding notes about aliens, the Grimm, and sketches of Blake. Her musings centered mostly around xenobiology, but she also found time to ruminate on the Faunus, wondering how many variants existed. Her notes were a mix of English and what he assumed to be Gaelic. He tossed it away as useless. This notebook couldn’t help him.

Sighing, he checked O’Deorain’s Scroll next. No password, she probably didn’t expect anyone else to use it. More notes, none of them made much sense to him. Contact list next, usual fae. Had the locals, other squad leaders. But, there was one labeled “New Order”. What did that mean? No photo, no contact information, nothing. It was as if the information was going away with the passing second. He closed the contact list, spotting a video file. Curious, he opened it.

The frame showed O’Deorain in the same room he was standing in, but nobody else was around. Must have been taken during the day. Her evil grin practically chilled his bones even though the screen.

“Greetings, interloper,” O’Deorain’s visage said. “If you’re watching this, then I’m long gone. XCOM is no longer useful to me, and as such I seek greener pastures. Do let Commander Okorie know it’s nothing personal – I simply have no need for your work.” She paused, almost as if she had forgotten what she was going to say next. “Oh, yes, you’re probably wondering why I’m gone. Well, if you don’t already know, then I can’t possibly enlighten you. I issue a _warning,_ not a threat – do not send anyone to try to follow or find me. I will kill without hesitation anyone you dispatch, and I would hate to kill some of you.” Smiling, she gave her signature witch-like wave before disappearing. The file ended on an empty room.

This wasn’t good.


	6. Nacht und Nebel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira plans an attack against XCOM. Meanwhile, Ozpin continues his plans.

This facility was already providing a great deal of interesting subjects to study. Grimm spawned near-daily from the tar-like pits surrounding Salem’s castle, not to mention the ones she conjured almost at will. If nothing else, she could admire the positively Gothic aesthetic of Salem’s castle, perfectly fitting for a woman of her stature. If only the hangers-on she surrounded herself with could appreciate such things.

She marveled at how Salem was able to collect these people, draw them near her as if with a magnet. Watts was smart, Moira could rely on him to provide a useful sounding board for experiments and assist her in understanding Remnant’s technological limitations – and pushing the boundaries of how it worked. Hazel looked down upon her with disdain, and the one named Tyrian was only useful as a madman, the sort of person you set upon a target and let run wild.

And yet, Moira couldn’t help but find herself fascinated by the two young ones. What were their names again? Ember and Mercutio? No matter, she was having far too much fun irritating them. Mercutio, he held a lot of anger in his heart. Perhaps Moira could find a way to redirect it, get him to channel it into far more useful endeavors. The other one… she was afraid. Afraid of Moira. Afraid of the aliens. Afraid of Salem. Afraid of _failure._ She’d have to learn.

The doors to Salem’s inner sanctum opened, revealing a long room lined with windows that stretched from the ceiling to the floor, ornate wrought iron decorating the panes. Sometimes, it was like she and Salem were of similar minds, the way she decorated this entire palace with a purple motif. Salem sat in her throne, an ornate thing with candles all over. Moira bowed as she approached, kneeling before Salem.

“You’ve done well for yourself,” Salem said.

Moira smiled as she knelt. “You’re too kind, Salem. I cannot begin to thank you for the resources your have bestowed upon me. They’ve been of wonderful help.”

Already, Moira had supplemented her psionic powers with further and further experiments, attempting to splice her DNA with that of the Grimm. Unfortunately, this came at the cost of her right hand, visibly necrotic and decaying, and a regrettably avoidable explosion had forced her to wear a metal plate around her left eye.

Salem nodded in agreement. “Your information will help us against Ozpin’s new allies.”

“I was more than happy to help,” she said. “Their work is of no use to me.”

“And you are confident that after we defeat Ozpin and his allies, we can destroy the aliens?”

“The aliens have no subtlety,” Moira said. “All they understand is destruction and occupation. No regard for the sciences, no _drive_ to learn from those they conquer.”

“That is not an answer, Moira.”

She shut her eyes for a second, swallowing. Right. Salem disliked roundabout answers. “Repelling the aliens will not be an issue.”

Salem remained quiet for a few moments, with no indication that she was even moving. “Well, I’m glad at least _somebody_ here has confidence. I hope for your sake that you are right, and that this alliance with the aliens will not interfere with future plans. You are free to leave, Moira.”

Moira rose, bowing again before she left. Outside, the two hangers-on stood guard. Lackeys of a former associate of Salem’s, a Cinder Fall. Salem must have believed them to have a purpose if she kep them around. Moira clasped her hands behind her back as she headed back to her lab, already running through new possibilities, new experiments to run.

“I see you’re settling in quite nicely,” Watts observed, approaching from a side hall.

“Indeed,” she replied. “Thank you, Doctor, for your assistance in bringing me up to speed with this world.”

His mustache danced as he stared at her with a cautious eye. “I still very much doubt your story, but you are welcome anyway.”

Faking shock, Moira put a hand on her chest. “You wound me, Doctor. I had thought we were friends.”

“More accurately, we are getting along. I would wager we’ll _continue_ to get along, if you continue to be useful.”

“Who is it again that decides who is useful and who isn’t?” Moira shot back, smiling. She watched him squirm, tried to find something condescending to say.

“Let’s hope your further work doesn’t lead to more wounds I need to patch up,” he said, walking away.

Now back in the solace of her lab, Moira dived headfirst into experiments. Ways to gain further psionic power, fuse with the Grimm, studying their very being. Perhaps she could even harness the power to conjure these herself, use them against XCOM. She had read their reports, knew their weapons were ineffective against them unless they were large autocannons. Each one was the subject of a new experiment, a new test. Even the largest ones that struck terror in the hearts of those who encountered them were mere toys in Moira’s hands.

Before she was aware of it, hours had passed and the gray-haired one came to retrieve her. He reported that the aliens had sent a delegate, aiming to discuss future plans with Salem, and she had asked them all to be there to attend the proceedings.

* * *

As she had expected, the aliens sent elements of their military, an officer and two troopers to escort it. They placed an arm on their chest in lockstep fashion, recognizing Salem’s superiority in this place. At least they knew their location in the hierarchy.

 _“Bor e-shalla,”_ the officer said. How annoying – they still hadn’t taught these things to use common languages.

“I wish I had been able to meet the Elders personally,” Salem said, apparently able to perfectly understand these soldiers. “This will have to suffice.”

_“Yau kh-thoor. Char boll m’hablana.”_

“I disagree. You know you need my cooperation.”

_“Kor thall!”_ the officer shouted. It looked almost _angry._ She didn’t know these things were capable of emotion. _“Per nil rashallah kh-voll!”_

Salem remained nonplussed, staring at the officer. “Your weapons can’t harm my creations. You wish to occupy Remnant? You can do so. But only _after_ I weaken humanity and bend it to my will.”

_“Ordu shah haklam rublellah h’kah. Ingor, bosh sarari j’mallah.”_

_“Your_ subordinates have no subtlety. We kill everyone associated with XCOM, and then we can begin work. You will know when I have achieved my goals.”

The officer glanced at Moira, before looking back at Salem and jerking its head. _“Nash brokaar?”_

“Moira,” Salem said, looking at her. “They wish to know if your duplicitous nature can be trusted.”

Moira steepled her fingers, frowning. “They know how I work. If they hold doubts, I wouldn’t believe them worth our time.”

“Allow _me_ to be the judge of that,” Salem replied, turning back to the officer. “Satisfied?”

The officer nodded, and along with its escort gave another warrior’s salute. In lockstep, they performed an about-face and left the chambers. Next to her, Hazel crossed his arms.

“I hope these aliens don’t destroy too much,” he said, the first words she had heard him speak since she had arrived. “I’d hate for what happened to Earth happen here.”

“XCOM allowed that to happen on Earth,” Moira remarked. “With our talents, we can easily dismantle their little coalition, and then Remnant will be putty in our hands.”

Bored of simple talk, Salem turned her head to Moira, looking at her with her blood-red eyes. “Moira, the silver-eyed girl. Did you meet her?”

“Indeed,” Moira replied, nodding. “One of their strongest, if less tactically adept.”

“I want you to kill her,” Salem said coldly. “Kill her, and her friends, and bring me her head on a plate.”

Moira grinned, bowing. “With pleasure.”

* * *

The recording played over and over as Central, Amari, Price, O’Neill and the Commander watched, each with differing levels of consternation. None of them, Amari perhaps least of all, looked pleased to see O’Deorain had _again_ decided to up and leave XCOM. Perhaps more frustratingly, nobody could understand why she had opted to leave this time. From all accounts, she had all she needed – a place to sleep, food, a plethora of aliens to experiment on. What more could she _want?_

“We must recover O’Deorain _immediately,”_ Commander Okorie said, pausing the video. O’Deorain’s smug face looked back at them, as if she were taunting them from a single frame.

“Going to be hard to do that,” Price muttered. “She’s got at least half a day’s head start on us, if not more. With her powers, she could be anywhere.”

O’Neill groaned, rubbing his temples. “What else do we know? Did she say anything to anyone before she left? Maybe left us a map?”

“Not that we’re aware of,” Amari said.

“All of her personal effects are here,” Tyson reported. “Clothes, notebooks, that sort of thing.”

The room fell silent. The tension was so thick, Tyson was sure anyone walking in would be hit in the face by it.

“We should ask Ozpin and his group for help finding Moira,” Central declared. “We need to tell them everything about her.”

“You sure we should do that?” Price asked, raising an eyebrow. “We’re already with shaky ground with them.”

“They found her once, they can do it again,” Central insisted. “What other choice do we have?”

Amari folded her arms, pointedly looking at Commander Okorie. “It is not _our_ choice. This decision rests solely on the Commander’s shoulders.”

The Commander sighed, swallowing hard. “Let me make this clear,” she said, sweeping her eyes at every officer present. “I do not care if we have to bring O’Deorain back here in a soup can. I want her _here.”_

“Understood, ma’am,” Price said. “Shoot to kill?”

“Yes. Captain Amari, I would like Echo to handle this. Please, can we assemble Ozpin, Qrow and the rest of Echo in here? Captain Price, General O’Neill, you are dismissed.”

Slowly, Price and O’Neill filtered out. A few minutes later, they were replaced by Ozpin, Qrow, and Schnee and her friends. Tyson took his spot against the wall, ready to watch the fireworks.

“As I’m sure you’ve noticed,” Central said, clearing his throat. “Moira O’Deorain is MIA.”

“Good riddance,” Xiao Long said, smirking.

Commander Okorie clasped her hands behind her, solemnly nodding. “I regret to inform you, Ozpin, that we have not been entirely truthful with you.”

Ozpin seemed nonplussed by the news, while Qrow’s eyes jumped up as he took a swig from his flask. Belladonna and Rose looked on with a certain level of curiosity, but otherwise remained silent.

“Moira O’Deorain conducted research that directly led to Earth’s genocide,” Commander Okorie said. “In the past, she worked with the aliens to build the gene therapy clinics that, unfortunately, lured many of our fellow humans to slaughter. She defected to us, and unfortunately I believed she could be trusted.”

“Stop me if I have this wrong,” Qrow said, holding up a hand. “You recruited a woman that you knew was responsible for a genocide, and thought she could be trusted?”

“I must question your logic if you believed such a woman could be trusted. Where is this Moira now?”

“We do not know,” Commander Okorie replied, her tone even. Tyson could tell she was trying very hard to maintain it, and a neutral look on her face. “I interrogated her myself for several hours, and believed her to be trustworthy. We are attempting to track Moira down, and bring her back here so she can be appropriately punished. For that, I am again asking for your team’s help in finding her.”

“Punish,” Qrow repeated, scoffing. “You knew what she did. Why do you want her back so much?”

“If Moira defects to the aliens again,” Bradford warned, “it could put all of our future operations in jeopardy.”

“Yeah, because _we’ve_ been doing such a bang-up job lately,” Qrow snarked.

“I have one other question,” Ozpin said, leaning on his cane. “Your people hid Pyrrha’s existence from us. You have concealed the truth concerning Moira’s past. Why should we continue to trust you?”

The Commander nodded, sighing. “I understand, I completely do. This is certainly a tough pill to swallow. I sincerely regret that such deceit had to take place, but it has happened and I can only hope that we are able to move past it. Moira’s punishment must be swift, and severe. We must either bring her back here to face justice, or she must be destroyed. If you are unwilling to help, that is regrettable, but understandable.”

Her words hung in the air as Qrow scowled at them, rolling his eyes. Looked like Schnee’s friends were wrestling with the gravity of these orders.

Stepping forward, Xiao Long set a look of determination on her face. “I’ll do it,” she said. “She’s not threatening my family.”

“I’ll help as well,” Schnee said.

Belladonna rolled her eyes, reluctantly sighing. “Well, I guess it’s better than sitting around.”

“Let’s do it,” Rose added.

Commander Okorie nodded. “Excellent. We will have to start from the beginning. We have no idea where Moira has gone to.”

“Well, hold on,” Xiao Long said. “She said something once about… I dunno, how the true struggle was for ideas or something?”

“For the _superiority_ of ideas,” Schnee corrected. “It was before we were given our squad assignments.”

Central nodded, stroking his chin. “More than we had before. Know anyone who’d appeal to her ideals?”

“If I may ask,” Ozpin said. “What exactly _were_ Moira’s goals when she joined the aliens?”

“She sought experiments,” Amari chimed in. “She had been shunned by the world’s medical community when the aliens invaded, believed Overwatch suppressed her. But the aliens had no such qualms, and gave her what she wanted.”

Qrow and Ozpin’s eyebrows jumped up, and they looked at each other, concerned. This wasn’t good. What were they thinking?

“I fear I know where she went to,” Ozpin gravely announced. “Salem.”

“Who is this Salem?” Commander Okorie asked. “Explain.”

Ozpin cleared his throat, beginning to pace. “Salem has the power of the Grimm on her side, she commands the very forces of darkness herself. She seeks immense power in order to destroy humanity, reshape Remnant in her will. Now, ordinarily I would love to assist, but our goals _prior_ to your arrival included stopping Salem. We cannot risk further delays.”

“So, you are saying you will not help us?”

The room fell silent as Ozpin tapped away at his cane. Team RWBY looked at each other first, exchanging concerned glances, and then they, like the rest of the room, turned to stare at Ozpin, as if burning holes into his head would compel him to give an answer faster.

“Unfortunately, I have goals that my compatriots here must assist me in completing. I do not look upon with favor the prospect of abandoning further progress on those goals in order to chase ghosts. You said yourself, you have no knowledge of where Moira has gone to. _We_ must go to Argus. You can do what you must to find your defector.”

Xiao Long furrowed her brow, shrugging. “Wait, Ozpin, didn’t you hear them? If Moira defected to the aliens, everything we’re doing could be at risk.”

“I understand their hesitance to allow this defector to run freely, but my decision has been made, Miss Xiao Long. My apologies, Commander, but we cannot continue to use time that we do not have.”

“Very well,” Commander Okorie said. “Bradford, dispatch Misfit to search for Moira, but keep them close. Ozpin, if you would have us, I would like to send some of my best with you.”

Ozpin arched an eyebrow, curiously considering her request. “For what purpose? We already know your weapons do not harm the Grimm.”

“The aliens have the capability to deploy anywhere. While Dust is effective against the aliens, I feel it would be far more prudent to have members of XCOM accompany you.”

Qrow shrugged, taking a drink from his flask. “Could always use the extra firepower, Oz.”

“Hmm,” Ozpin hummed, stroking his chin. “Well, I suppose there can be no harm to it. Alright. Gather them up, and let me know. We will leave when they are ready.”

* * *

Half an hour later, and after confirming with Ozpin about where they were heading, Tyson was gathered up alongside Price, Amari, Nikos, and Freeman for the trip to Argus. The same familiar map of Remnant was laid out on the table, smoke from Price’s cigar filling the air as Central gestured to the city of Argus, far, _far_ north of their position.

“Here’s what we know so far,” he said. “Argus is one of the largest non-capital cities in all of Remnant, a vital trading port between Mistral and Atlas. It’s accessible only by road or rail on this continent, and hosts the largest military base outside of Atlas. Now, we’ve been informed that because of the loss of the Mistral communications tower, long-range signals are a no go.”

He drew a line on the map, right in the midpoint between Mistral and Argus. “This is where we anticipate Scroll signals dropping entirely. Beyond this point, you will have no communications with us here.”

“Long way from home,” Price muttered. “What’s the plan to get there? Ozpin was pretty worried about time.”

“We’ve arranged for tickets on Argus Limited,” Central explained. “It’s a five-day trip, but it’s a hell of a lot faster than walking. I’d wish you all good luck, but I know that doesn’t count for much these days.”

“Possible contacts?” Tyson asked. “What’s the threat assessment look like?”

“Could be anything, or could be nothing,” Central replied. “We haven’t heard word of higher Grimm activity than normal. No alien sightings, so either they’re backing off, or it hasn’t reached us yet.”

Price tapped his cigarette, ashes spilling on the floor. “Right. Well, hope for the best, prepare for the worst. Bring lots of ammo. Something tells me we might need it.”

* * *

The briefing that followed went without much change in the status quo. Ozpin speculated that O’Deorain had sought out Salem’s faction almost immediately, had even gone so far as to claim Salem had made contact with O’Deorain almost as soon as she had come to Remnant. Obviously, Ozpin posited, Salem had gone to great lengths to convince and cajole O’Deorain that working with her was better than any deal she had with Commander Okorie. Maybe it was promises of whatever O’Deorain called science, or bribes of fame. Maybe it was as simple as the pleasure of seeing Amari squirm. Whatever the reason, Tyson figured it was probably better to just shoot on sight when – and if – they ever encountered her again.

The sound of squealing brakes brought him back to Mistral’s train station. He looked up, watching a long train full of blocky gray-painted cars with red trim roll in. Alternating designs – one had square windows on an angled roof, while the other had some kind of overhang to form a continuous square along the train. Lot of ladders. The windows were varying, some rectangular, others tall and narrow.

“Looks like that’s our ride,” Price said, unfolding his arms. Good thing Remnant was far more liberal concerning their weapons laws – he couldn’t imagine them openly carrying light machine guns and sniper rifles on Earth. For this one, Price had opted to carry a standard M4A1, customized to his exact needs with a foregrip, red dot sight, and a flashlight/laser combo. Amari had slung a PSG-1 over her back, and switching it up from his usual style, Freeman carried what he called the “ultimate comeback” in the form of a SPAS-12. Hell, with his MG3, they had all parts of fighting the aliens covered.

Possibly more apparent to him was the fact they now began to resemble Remnant’s warriors. Gone were their heavy kevlar plates with alien rifle tech rendering armor worthless. Good and bad, really – Tyson had swapped to using a MOLLE rig with extra bags for ammo belts and water, but the rig was harder to keep straight, didn’t have the heft to it as a good combat vest. At least he still had the ruck.

Rose and Schnee burst in, holding bags. Fucking _shopping?_ They had gone _shopping_ while they were here? Rose screeched, holding the bag out to show her friends.

“What an absolute waste of time,” Schnee muttered. At least _one_ of them had her head on straight.

“What did you get me?” Xiao Long asked.

“You’ll have to wait and see!”

Xiao Long faked shock, frowning. “No fair!”

“I can’t believe we’re taking the _train_ to Argus!” Valkyrie said, throwing her arms wide. “The beautiful northern coastline! You think it’s too early for beach season?”

“Unfortunately,” Ren said. “But we will be one step closer to Atlas.”

Schnee harrumphed, folding her arms dramatically. “Well, I’m glad _you’re_ all excited, but I don’t think you appreciate the trouble I went through to _leave_ Atlas.”

“I know you’re worried, Weiss,” Rose said. “But trust us. Team RWBY won’t leave your side for a second! I promise!”

Tyson saw movement. He looked away from the kids, spotting two fighters. One was fair-skinned, gray pants held up by a wide brown belt. Simple shirt, looked dark green with large buttons and battleship gray trim and carrying a mace. Other one was tanned, had a cream-colored shirt with blue vest paired with gold trim and buttons, carrying a Dust rifle. Looked archaic. Both had an air of overconfidence about them. Strong fellas – could probably match Tyson if it were a bare-knuckles brawl and it was two on one. One on one, he figured his Ranger skills could win him that fight.

“No one’s gotta be worried with us around,” the fair-skinned one said.

“Who’re you?” Price asked, puffing away on his cigar.

“Why, Dee and Dudley of course,” the same fighter replied. “The Argus Limited’s very own Huntsmen. We’ll be keeping everyone safe as we pass through Grimm territory.”

Other one readjusted his grip on the rifle, leaning the barrel against his shoulder. “But, for a generous _tip,_ we can make sure _your_ passenger car gets extra special attention should things get dangerous.”

Tyson, Amari, Freeman and Price didn’t have to be from Remnant to know these guys were cons. Tyson smirked, suppressing a laugh as he watched the kids stare at them unamused. Looked like Branwen was coming over.

“I got a tip for you,” he said.

“Huh?”

 _“Buzz off,”_ Branwen said harshly. “Looks like Mistral’s really scraping the bottom of the barrel these days.”

“Hey!” one of them – might have been Dee- said. “You’re talking to a-”

“A professional Huntsman,” Branwen said, flashing some sort of ID. “Right. Well, it seems one of you _heroes_ left the staff entrance to the caboose wide open. It’d be a shame to lose your jobs right before you started.”

Immediately, the two clowns stared at each other in shock, arguing over each other as they headed to the train.

“Holy shit,” Freeman muttered. “That was actually one of the coolest fucking things I’ve ever seen. You know what, I take back _everything_ I said about you people – you guys _can_ get stuff done.”

Price smirked, chuckling as he lit up a cigar. “Sometimes intimidation gets the point across.”

“Alright,” Branwen said. “We all loaded up? Bike good?”

“Yeah,” Xiao Long said. “We should be good to go!”

Tyson stood up, grunting as the MG3 and his bag’s weight worked against him. No time like the present, especially if time was against them like Ozpin was saying. A flood of people headed onto the train. More stress. Too many contacts to worry about. Faceless could be among them at any second. What if one of those so-called Huntsmen was secretly a Faceless in disguise? Could jeopardize this entire trip. Tyson didn’t much relish the thought of trying to fight aliens on board a train.

“Look up,” Price whispered in Russian. Tyson glanced at the ceiling, spotting turrets.

“Turrets,” Tyson whispered back. “Must be automatic defenses. I don’t see radar on these cars.”

“What’s your read on that caliber?”

He glanced up again. Looked like two to a car. “Large caliber. Looks like slow-firing autocannons. Do we have intel on what kind of Grimm roam in this area?”

“Negative. Let’s hope the locals are better at designing weapons than they are at defending buildings.”

Back to English – someone was pointing out where they’d be staying. Tyson and Freeman were sharing a room, it seemed. Better than having to share it with one of the kids, or Ozpin. The guy – or kid, what the fuck even was he? - freaked him out. He hadn’t seen much of the actual kid’s personality in the time that he’d been on base. Made him wonder if they even existed independently.

After putting away his things, Tyson rejoined Price, Freeman and Amari in a passenger compartment, sealed off from the hallway by way of a sliding door.

“What’s the plan?” he asked as he sat down.

“Ozpin’s still got the Relic in hand,” Price said. “He’s not letting anyone even so much as look at it.”

“Do you believe Moira’s theory about it?” Amari asked, to which Price shook his head.

“Stay the course. No need to make waves now. They barely trust us with Moira MIA. Don’t need to add fuel to the fire.”

“You know,” Freeman muttered. “I’m just happy to not be walking somewhere for once. Too much walking will kill you. That’s how Eddie’s brother Josh died.”

Tyson rolled his eyes. “Shut up, Freeman.”

* * *

Blake sighed as she looked out the window. Occasionally fighting alongside XCOM was one thing, but now they had to tag along to Argus and Atlas? Why did they care _this much?_ It didn’t make any sense to Blake. Something about them just wasn’t adding up, Tyson in particular. Why did they want to be here so much? Why had Moira run away from them?

Why were they _really_ here on Remnant?

She hadn’t seen Tyson or his friends lately. Maybe they were in another part of the car. Blake sighed, turning back to look at her teammates. Ruby was on her Scroll, probably playing a game. Yang was flipping through a magazine, while Weiss read a book. Blake cleared her throat, drawing exactly nobody’s attention.

“Hey, Yang, Weiss, she said, prompting her team to look up. “Can I ask you guys something?”

“Sure,” Yang said. “What’s up?”

“So, you two were on that ship the most, and… well, were _all_ of them like that Tyson guy? Or is he just a special case?”

Weiss closed her book, looking away to contemplate for a moment. “Well, there was _one,_ but… Captain Rex was always strict for a reason.”

“Yeah, this dude’s just _way_ more uptight. Why?”

Blake rubbed her shoulders, the very thought of what she was about to say chilling her. Seeing Adam again… she almost wished she hadn’t. She should have killed him right then and there, but… “I don’t like it,” she finally confessed. “It reminds me of – just everything about him is _wrong.”_

“Where is this coming from, Blake?” Weiss asked.

“Yeah, are you okay?” Ruby chimed in.

Blake sighed. “Look, I’m just saying they’re _all_ a bit off, alright? I mean, they come, then a few days later, aliens come? They start building up, aliens come to destroy? And now they have someone that might have gone to Salem? What if she’s a spy for them?”

“Moira’s fucking insane,” Yang said, raising an eyebrow. “She doesn’t think about anyone other than herself. Trust me, she’s not a spy for them.”

“But you don’t know that!” Blake shot back. “People can surprise you.”

Yang paused, her mouth agape. “Yeah, I guess they can,” she muttered, hopping off the bench and heading out of the compartment. Ruby and Weiss looked at each other, confused, and then glanced at Blake. _Fuck,_ she hadn’t meant to do this. Blake followed Yang out of the suite, seeing her leaning against a window, a fist resting on it.

“Yang,” she meekly said as she dared to approach. “I didn’t mean-”

“No, I think you _did_ mean,” Yang said. “It’s okay, really. I get it. I was too much too quick for you.”

“That’s not what-” Blake said, interrupting herself with a frustrated sigh. “I told you I wasn’t ready _then._ That doesn’t mean-”

“Blake, no offense, but I think that ship has sailed.” Yang slowly turned to look at her, face wrought with pain and sadness. “I told you then it was okay, and it _was._ Just because we didn’t work out doesn’t mean we can’t still be friends, right? Look, I guess what I’m trying to say is I get it. But XCOM is full of good people.”

“They had Moira,” Blake reminded her.

“Yeah, they did, and I wanted to kill her every day I was there. I don’t know, just… _trust me,_ please?” She shoved herself off the window, sighing as she faced Blake. “You trusted me once before. I didn’t try to hurt you then, and I’m not trying to hurt you now.”

Blake felt her shoulders drop, as if the weight of the world was suddenly on her shoulders. Though, given how things were progressing lately, maybe it _was._ After all, things were desperate enough with just the fate of Remnant on her and her friends. Now Blake had to deal with an intergalactic war too? What could possibly be next?

“You’re right,” Blake said softly. “I did. But Yang, you _know_ me. You _know_ my past. You see where I’m coming from, right?”

Yang sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Yeah, I do, and that’s – fuck, it’s frustrating. I don’t know, what do you _want_ me to say, Blake?”

“That you _understand._ This guy reminds me too much of Adam, and I don’t know how much I like that.”

“Yeah, I can see that,” Yang muttered, rubbing the back of her head. “I don’t know, I never much interacted with the guy on the _Avenger._ Maybe Pyrrha would know? Look, Blake, I get it, I really do. Tyson’s _not_ Adam, that much I know. If he was, he’d have been gone a long time ago.”

Yang sighed a final time, muttering how she was going to go back to hang out with Weiss and Ruby. Goddammit, Yang said she understood but she _didn’t._ Blake _recognized_ this. She had _lived_ it for too long. Alright, well, if her team didn’t want to listen, Blake would just have to do this alone. She had to protect her team.

She wouldn’t let some asshole divide her team up. Never again.


	7. The Coming Storm

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake grows more suspicious of Tyson. Grimm attack Argus Limited.

Blake had set herself to observing Tyson, aiming to find some logic or reason behind what he did. In the times she could see him moving between his room in the sleeping car and the compartment he shared with the other XCOM people, it appeared his regimen was almost exactly that of what he did back at their base. For reasons unknown to her, Tyson spoke almost exclusively to Price in a language they shared. Whether he did this out of fear of eavesdropping, or just as a way to find some sense of comfort, it frustrated Blake’s attempts to understand his intentions.

Her working theory was that XCOM was not here for the altruistic reasons they claimed. In reality, the story they gave was fake, a ruse that had enraptured Weiss, Yang and Pyrrha. The truth she substituted for their lies was that XCOM was a terrorist faction, hellbent on eliminating whatever the actual government of Earth was. There never were any aliens, any intergalactic foes, and certainly not some insane genocide. They were radical terrorists, like those who still followed Adam’s violent splinter of the White Fang.

However, in the moments when Tyson thought he was alone, or when he believed nobody was watching, she spotted him writing in a small journal. What secrets did this hold? She had another working theory that Tyson had somehow supported Moira’s departure, that she was reporting back to him. Or, perhaps even worse, if Moira had gone to Salem like Ozpin thought, he was reporting their position back to _her._ She had to know what was in this journal. He guarded it like a child does a security blanket, almost never letting it out of his sight. But, Blake could find a way in. She _always_ could.

She waited until he had gone for dinner, hanging back with a fabricated excuse of needing to get something from her back. Once she was sure he was gone, Blake slid open the door to his room. Good, Freeman was gone, but she didn’t expect him to have been a problem anyway. All things considered, he was easily fooled. She could have made up practically any store and he would have bought it.

First thing’s first. If she were hiding a journal, and didn’t want people to find it, where would she put it? Perhaps he was like a lot of others she had stole from, never considered the possibility that anyone would even care enough about it to keep it hidden. But, she remembered the times Tyson would be writing it in, only to swiftly put it away the moment he heard Price and Amari’s heavy footsteps coming his way. If he was hiding it from them, perhaps it was more secret than she initially believed.

Okay, obvious spots first. It wasn’t sitting on the end table, that’d be too easy. Not under his pillow. Maybe under the mattress? No. Not in his bag. Okay, maybe second-most obvious spot. _Okay, so he kept it in a drawer,_ Blake thought, carefully moving a pair of tactical pants out of the way. She tucked the journal into her hip pouch, swiftly heading off to join the rest of her team for dinner as if nothing had ever happened.

Dinner was a blur, constantly looking over her shoulder to check if Tyson was on to her. Even as they headed back, she feared he would call her out, possibly even attack her, but nothing had come of her crime. As if she was still hiding who she really was, Blake waited until her team had fallen into a deep sleep, slipping out in order to view the contents of Tyson’s journal.

She found a quiet corner, unused and ignored. Pulling out her Scroll, she turned on the flashlight so she could read the journal. Blake had expected semi-daily write ups of the day, some kind of status report, but instead she just found an endless list of _names._ Some of them she recognized, but most of them were foreign to her. But these familiar names began to make sense. They were people he had served with on the _Avenger,_ she realized.

Blake flipped back a few pages, now realizing these names also had notes underneath them. They were written in a language she didn’t recognize, for the most part, but a few remained that she could read. Price and Amari’s entries noted them as good officers, people Tyson wanted to learn from. Killip had nothing except “nuts”. For some reason, he joined two names together, calling them “the odd couple” before crossing one out with a single heavy line, then writing underneath both of their names “K.I.A.”

Eventually, she came across Weiss, Yang and Pyrrha’s entries. Weiss’s had two notes in it – one “Weiße Hexe,” the other a nickname more than a note, “Princess.” If only he knew. Yang’s only had “Hothead,” scratched off and replaced with “Firebrand.” Pyrrha’s entry was “Spartan.” What did these _mean?_ Were they codenames or something? They must have had some sort of meaning to Tyson, otherwise he wouldn’t have even bothered to write it down, right?

Blake found herself flipping through the journal, desperate to find entries for herself, Ren, Nora, Jaune, and others. Maybe it was out of a drive to derive meaning from these pointless notes. Maybe she was just finally losing her goddamn mind. Either one was plausible. _Here we go._ Jaune was noted as “Flatfooted.” Nora “unhinged.” Ren had no note. Qrow “alcoholic.” Ozpin “schizophrenic.”

And then she came to her own entry.

At first, Tyson had written down naive, crossing it out and replacing it with idealistic. Apparently, Tyson found issue with this assignment and had crossed it out too, supplanting it with confusing. He wrote the starts to a handful of words she didn’t recognize, before finally appearing to settle of “confusing.” An actual note this time - “confirm rumors”. What rumors? What did this mean?

She sighed as she slapped the journal closed, her curiosity only partially sated. _Great,_ she had just broken into his room and stolen something only to learn absolutely nothing. Blake had learned he kept notes on people he met, but for what purpose? What was the point behind it? Was it so he could report to somebody about them, or a way to keep himself grounded in a world that – to Blake at least – was devoid of any logic or reason? Shaking her head, she silently made her way back to her room, aiming to return the notebook during breakfast the next morning. Blake had _hoped_ this endeavor would give her answers, but it was just leaving her with more questions.

* * *

Blake woke up at her usual time, still maintaining the facade that everything was normal. Tyson and Freeman were already eating by the time she got in the dining car – if she was fast, she could get Tyson’s journal back in his room before he realized anything was amiss. By her time, she could be in and out in five minutes. Blake watched carefully, eating as quickly as possible to make sure she had enough time.

_Shit,_ Tyson started gathering his plates and utensils up. He was on his way out. Blake made a quick exit as well. She was cutting it dangerously close. Had to get it back before Tyson could potentially look for it. He’d know immediately that someone had took it if it was missing. She shadowed Tyson, and for a minute she feared he would be heading to his quarters, but instead he paused to stare out the window. A slight downward nod of his head was the only indication that he was aware of her presence, and she hurried past him in order to reach his room.

But, he was too close. Couldn’t make a move now, he’d know. She pretended to head back to the compartment she shared with her team, hanging around the corner and keeping her ears attuned for the sound of his footsteps. She heard him walk away, but where to? Maybe to the compartment with Price and Amari. She looked around the corner, not seeing him. Waited two minutes, just to be sure he was gone.

Cautiously, she opened the door to his room, looking around to see if maybe she had missed something. Thankfully, she hadn’t, and satisfied that nobody was in the room, Blake headed over to the dresser. Same drawer, same tactical pants. She slid the journal underneath the clothes, exactly as she had found it, and slowly slid the drawer shut. Blake let out a deep sigh of content, finally done with her crime and with nobody the wiser. She was about to turn around when she heard the door close. It… shouldn’t have done that. Which could only mean…

Tyson stood in front of the door, his arms folded and a frown plastered on his face. He gestured to the small desk chair that had been provided for the room, but Blake didn’t take it. He didn’t seem to really care that she had rejected his offer for a seat. “Mind telling me what you’re doing snooping around?” he asked.

“I think you’re a threat to my team.”

Tyson shrugged, nonplussed by this accusation. “Ain’t the first time I’ve heard that.”

“Why do you keep those notes on everyone?”

“Why do you _care?”_

Blake narrowed her eyes, hoping her glare could throw daggers at him. “I hope you know I don’t trust you at all.”

“Yeah, I kind of got that impression,” he said, rolling his eyes. “You done snooping around, or do I have to bring this up with Price?”

“You can tell him,” she replied, folding her arms. “I don’t answer to Price.”

“Yeah,” Tyson replied, nodding. _“You_ don’t. Your friends _do.”_

“My friends aren’t party to whatever politics you have in mind.”

Tyson sighed, rolling his shoulders back. “Listen, I’m giving you a _chance_ here, Belladonna. I don’t care if you think I’m a threat, but you don’t get to go through my shit. I don’t appreciate being spied on, so I’d like it if you stopped.”

“I don’t appreciate being spied on _either,”_ Blake retorted. “I’ll do whatever I have to in order to protect my team.”

“Duly noted,” he replied, getting off the door and opening it. “Now, please. Kindly get the fuck out of my room.”

She was about to step out, when the train car suddenly lurched, throwing both of them to the floor. Blake could hear screaming coming from elsewhere in the train, alongside Dust weapons being fired. On instinct, Tyson had grabbed him machine gun, crawling over her to get the combat rig and throwing it over himself. Blake picked herself up, unsheathing Gambol Shroud from the magnetic strip on her back.

“Well,” she said, “looks like I’m getting out of your room.”

* * *

“Price!” Tyson shouted, his boots stomping against the floor as Blake watched his combat rig bounce on his chest. “What’s the sitrep?”

“Multiple contacts!” Price yelled back, throwing open the door to get access to the ladder. “Don’t know if they’re aliens or Grimm, just get up here, both of you!”

Blake followed Price up, not even bothering to wait for Tyson. The howling wind reached her ears first, followed by Dust weaponry going off. As she got to the top of the car, the bitter cold hit her as snow hit her face and clung to her hair. She saw Yang, Weiss, Ruby, Jaune, Ren and Nora ahead with Qrow and Ozpin, fighting groups of Manticore Grimm. There was another one, a Sphinx looked like.

Blake jumped as a sharp, ear-piercing shot rang out next to her. Looking around, she saw Pyrrha kneeling on the roof, a strange rifle in her hands. “Sorry, Blake!” she said, tracking one of the Grimm. Blake shook her head, running forward to join her team. There wasn’t time to focus on anything else, had to fight. One of the Huntsmen from earlier, Dee was it? He began swinging his flail, charging at one of the Manticores as it landed on the train, only to be plucked away and sent plunging to the valley below.

“Dee!” his comrade shouted. Behind her, she heard the sound of Tyson’s machine gun opening up as other shots began to ring out. XCOM must have joined in the fight.

Blake took a deep breath, lashing out with her ribbons to lock a Manticore, bringing it down for Yang to punch and obliterate.

“What’s the plan, Ruby?” Blake shouted, watching the other so-called Huntsman run past them. What the hell was he _doing?_ Whatever, it didn’t matter, they had to get back to fighting, stop these Grimm from destroying the train. She could hear weapons, both Dust and otherwise, popping all around her as she worked with Yang to take down Grimm after Grimm. They just never stopped _coming._

The part of the train she had been using shook, throwing her off-balance. She rolled, looking behind her to see a turret had popped out of the roof. It swung around, beginning to fire on the Grimm and tracking them as they flew past.

“Take cover near the turrets!” Price shouted, and slowly XCOM began to move forward. Just as they neared it, a Manticore flew dangerously close, ripping the turret away from the roof in one fell swoop.

“Christ!” Freeman shouted, stuffing ammo into his shotgun. “I should have expected this ambush, but no! Didn’t see it coming! _Hey, you know whats frustrating?!_ Having assholes like YOU pop up like the fucking Spanish Inquisition even after I keep my head on a swivel like a coked-out schizophrenic owl!”

The Sphinx landed dramatically on the roof, roaring proudly like it was expecting this challenge. Blake charged forward, ignoring XCOM’s fire as she linked back up with Yang. Utilizing Weiss’s glyphs to speed themselves up, they began to attack the Sphinx, dodging hits from its Manticore escort.

“Flank! Flank! Flank!” Tyson screamed above the noise of gunfire, shifting his fire away from the Sphinx. More turrets went down as Manticores alternated between dropping dead and taking out turrets. The Sphinx wasn’t going down. Blake and Yang had to fall back, readjust.

“Oscar!” Qrow shouted, pointing at him. “Go tell that idiot to turn the turrets off!”

 _“What?!”_ Tyson yelled back. “Are you fucking insane?!”

Blake looked back, spotting the Grimm breaking off. Why would they do that? “Guys?” she asked. “What’s going on?”

“TUNNEL!”

She whipped around, spotting a tunnel approaching at high speed. In between shouts from XCOM and panicked yells from Ruby, Blake sprinted back into the train. Somebody screamed, she didn’t recognize who in the confusion.

Blake landed inside the train no worse for wear – perhaps with a little less ammo than beforehand – turning around to see the rest of them had made it alright. At least, until Price came in, carrying the Huntsman with him.

Except he was missing his right arm from the elbow down.

Blood dripped on the carpet as shocked gasps emanated from the two teams. The Huntsman groaned in pain as Price slid him off his shoulders, depositing him on an unoccupied bench. Unfazed by the gore, Qrow headed over to the Huntsman, grabbing his collar. “Turn those goddamn things _off!”_

“Fuck you!” Freeman shouted. “They’re keeping us alive! In what world does it make sense to turn those turrets off?!”

“Us, yeah, but they’re risking the passengers!”

“Hey, _I’m_ the one they hired for this job, okay?!” the Huntsman shouted through gripes of pain. “I’m in charge here!”

“Not without your arm you’re not,” Price said coldly.

“Fuck this,” Tyson muttered. “We don’t have time to deal with this! This tunnel won’t last forever! We need a plan after our break runs out.”

“Nobody else is dying,” Ruby declared.

 _“That’s not a fucking plan, Little Red Riding Hood,”_ Tyson hissed.

“Well, I don’t see _you_ coming up with any ideas!” Blake shouted.

“Wait,” Nora said. “Ren, can you use your Semblance to mask everyone on this train? If the turrets are off, they might lose track of us!”

“I’ve never attempted to hide this many people before.”

“I could amplify your Aura,” Jaune chimed in.

Oscar cleared his throat – no, wait, it was Ozpin speaking, judging by the change in posture. “I’m afraid there’s one complication. The Grimm are also attracted to this.” He tapped at the Relic.

Almost speaking for all of them, Tyson shouted something in his language, throwing his field cap against the wall. “Are you fucking kidding me right now?! You didn’t think _maybe_ we’d want to fucking _know_ this before we left?!”

“I-”

“It doesn’t matter right now,” Ruby said resolutely, staring them down. “Every second that we’re on this train, we’re putting everyone else in danger. Get the passengers to the front cars, you can still mask their emotions once we turn off the turrets. We…we just can’t come with you. If we cut back cars with us and the Relic on them, we can deal with the Grim. You guys make sure the train makes it safely to Argus.”

Jaune sighed, shaking his head. He walked over to Ruby with an almost conflicted expression on his face. “Only if you promise you’ll meet us there.”

“Promise,” Ruby said, smiling confidently.

“Alright,” Price ordered. “Nikos! Freeman! Amari, to the front! Holzmann, you’re with me, let’s support them in case aliens show up.”

“You really think that’s necessary?” Qrow asked.

“Never hurts. Enough waiting around, let’s go.”

Blake began following Ruby, turning around just in time to see Amari patting Price’s face. “Be careful out there,” she warned him. “It’s not like Paris.”

“Well, we’re certainly not in Budapest anymore.”

Back up to the cold and wind as the turrets began to turn off, retreating to their concealed positions. Blake decoupled the train, allowing the front half to continue on as the cars they stood on rolled forward on momentum alone. She looked up, spotting – _what the fuck?_ Why was _Adam_ there? Why was he wearing a hood? She reached for Gambol Shroud, but in the blink of an eye, the figure was gone.

Her heart was pounding, breathing rapid like she had just ran a marathon. It was as if she was frozen in place, paralyzed not by the chill of the icy wind, but by fear. Fear that Adam had been here the whole time, watching, _waiting._ _Never again._ Blake sighed, letting out a deep breath to calm herself before he rejoined the fight.

Back up on the roof, the Sphinx had landed again. Time for round two. Yang had grabbed a Manticore by the horns, launching it off the train as Ruby followed up with shots from Crescent Rose. Gunfire was ever-present, more providing distractions to the Grimm than actually hurting them at this point. Cutting the tail off a Manticore, Blake saw Qrow struggling against the Sphinx. She looked at Yang, who nodded at her. They had a good idea of what to do. Blake threw Gambol Shroud up high, watching Yang punch it so the ribbon could wrap around the Sphinx’s torso. Another punch embedded the blade into the roof of the train. She grabbed one ribbon while Yang held down the other, Weiss freezing the wings. Shots from XCOM’s weapons shattered the wings.

“It’s getting ready to shoot a fireball!” Blake shouted. “Hurry up!”

Ruby and Qrow unleashed their scythes, launching themselves forward in a ball of fury to bisect the Sphinx’s torso, finishing it off for good. Helplessly, Blake watched a fireball fly from its mouth, heading for…the track in front of them. Acting quickly, Weiss activated gravity glyphs to keep them in place.

“Brace for impact!” Price shouted.

* * *

Blake shivered, shoving snow off of herself. How far away from the rails _were_ they? She looked around – looked like everyone was up and no worse for wear. Price was patting a coughing Tyson on the shoulders, as if checking him for something. Yang looked alright. Ruby and Weiss were good. Qrow wasn’t too much worse for wear. Ozpin was….Ozpin.

“Everyone alright?” Qrow asked, brushing snow off himself.

“I’m fine,” Weiss reported.

“Yeah,” Yang muttered.

“Still alive!”

Blake, along with the rest of the team, turned their heads to the new voice, a diminutive old woman with a strange device over her eyes, stepping out of an overturned train car. “That sure was a close one, huh?!” she asked, hopping jauntily out of the door.

“Uh…” Blake muttered.

Yang groaned in frustration, heading over to her bike and attempting to get it out of the snow. “Great, just _great!_ We’re _stranded,_ we lost a _third_ of our party, and we _gained_ a defenseless old _lady!”_ For a second, she succeeded in getting Bumblebee out before it fell back in the snow, taking Yang with it.

The woman folded her arms, the apparatus acting almost like eyebrows. “My name is Maria Calavera, and I am _not_ defenseless! I’m just a little hard of hearing, and blind without my eyes, that are in _desperate_ need of repair. …Okay, I’m starting to see your point.”

“Fucking wonderful,” Tyson muttered, grabbing his machine gun.

“Come on, knock it off you two,” Qrow said. “If we lose our cool now, we’ll just be inviting more Grimm.”

Blake scoffed, standing up and dusting snow off her pants. “Does that even _matter?_ Apparently, we’ve been attracting Grimm ever since we left Haven.”

Yang let out a hollow laugh, throwing her arms up in frustration. “Oh, right, how could I forget about _that?!_ What happened to ‘no more lies and half-truths’?”

Oscar, apparently back in control, nodded. “I… I think it’s time we got an explanation.” His eyes glowed for a split second, and he turned his head to Yang, furrowing his brow. “I did _not_ lie to you.”

“Well, you _certainly_ didn’t tell us the full truth,” Weiss said, folding her arms.

“Please,” Ozpin pleaded. “Now is not the time…”

“No!” Yang shouted, marching towards Ozpin. “We’re past that! I want to know why you’re _still_ not telling us everything!”

Ozpin took a deep breath as XCOM and RWBY gathered around him. “It is true that the Grimm are attracted to the Relics. It’s faint, but undeniable. I believe it has to do with their origin, but I’m not entirely sure. Regardless, I feared that making you all aware would only add anxiety and negativity. It seemed like the safer option.”

“This is bloody rich,” Price commented, having started smoking.

“I’m getting _real tired_ of people choosing what’s best for me,” Weiss said, frowning.

“Is that why you chose to lie to everyone about Lionheart too?”

Ozpin nodded slowly. “Yes, as a matter of fact. I believed the Kingdom of Mistral deserved better than the truth, and I believed Leonardo deserved to be remembered for his lifetime of service, and not for the unfortunate missteps he made in his final years.”

Yang scoffed, shaking her head. “Missteps?!”

“What Professor Lionheart did was reprehensible,” Ozpin said sternly. “I am not here to argue differently, but does one lapse in judgment truly negate all his good? Do we not all have regrets? You may have _met_ Professor Lionheart, but you never met the man he _was_ before Salem found him.”

“Look, we’re supposed to be in this _together,”_ Yang said. “You can trust us! We’re not going to turn our backs on you.”

“Do you really think Leo was the first?!” Ozpin yelled. On instinct, Blake jumped back, noticing Weiss and Yang had done the same. Even Qrow seemed surprised at the sudden burst of emotion.

“That he didn’t say _those exact same words_ to _me?_ I’m sorry, but you _have_ to understand that my behaviors are backed by experience. I’m not saying that I have a reason to think you will betray me. I’m saying I have _reasons_ for what I do, the secrets I keep, the reason I…” Patting his hip, Ozpin realized the Relic was gone, no longer on his hip. “Where’s the Relic?”

“Right here,” Ruby said, her face crestfallen as she held it in her hands. “It got scattered in the crash.”

Ozpin sighed in relief, holding out a hand. “Please, hand it over.” Despite the request, Ruby hesitated. God, this must have been terrible for Ruby. Out of all of them, Ruby had believed the most. Why wouldn’t she? She had never known anything other than this, really.

“So, all those times you talked about having faith in humanity,” Ruby said quietly, “that was just for everyone else?”

“That’s not what I meant to suggest, Miss Rose,” Ozpin said, sighing. “The Relic is a powerful item and I simply feel as if it is my burden to bear.”

“But, you said it couldn’t do anything right now.”

“Why does it matter who carries it?” Blake asked.

Next to her, Blake heard the sound of Price undoing a button, the clatter of a belt of Tyson’s ammunition knocking against itself. Ozpin started to move forward. “I need you to listen to me-” he said, but his words were cut off as he froze in place. Blake furrowed her brow, confused. What was going on?

“Oz?” Qrow asked.

“Hurry,” Oscar eked out. Was he fighting for control? “He’s… trying to stop you!”

Within seconds, Tyson and Price began going wide, their weapons in a low ready position.

“Stop her from what?” Yang asked.

“He’s afraid…” Oscar tried to continue. “You’ll find out what he’s… hiding!”

Suddenly, Oscar collapsed. This wasn’t making sense. Blake glared at him, conscious of Yang and Weiss doing the same. Something wasn’t adding up. She lifted her hand, ready to draw Gambol Shroud if she needed to. Dread was filling the air.

“Her name is Jinn,” Oscar muttered. “Say her name to summon her.”

“Her name?” Ruby repeated.

The wind and snow began to pick up, cutting visibility down. Just barely out of her peripheral vision, Blake saw the Relic begin to glow.

“Jinn?”

Without warning, the snow stopped, as if time itself had been frozen. Ruby let go of the Relic, and in awe, she and the team watched as it floated up and away, cyan smoke emerging from it like a smoke bomb. The lamp became completely enveloped in smoke, as a giant, semi-nude woman appeared. Her skin and hair were blue, decorated with all manner of ornate gold jewelry and ornaments. Stretching and moaning, the woman smiled contentedly, as if she had been awoken from a long nap.

“Wonderful,” Jinn boomed. “I am Jinn, a being created by the God of Light to aid humanity in its pursuit for knowledge. I’ve been graced with the ability to answer three questions every one hundred years. You’re in luck, as I’m still able to answer-”

_“That’s enough!”_

Ozpin had apparently taken control back, desperately reaching out even though he must have known there was no point. Even Jinn stared at him, her arms folded as if in disappointment. “…Two questions this era,” Jinn finished.

Blake found her mouth hanging open. Ozpin had _told them_ all the questions had been used up. Where did the lies end? Who _was_ he? What did he even _want?_ What had happened to Professor Ozpin?

Chuckling, Jinn looked at Ozpin and smiled. “It’s a pleasure to see you again, old man.”

“Ruby,” Ozpin pleaded. “Please. Don’t.”

Qrow glanced at Ozpin, and then stepped forward. “Hey…”

Immediately, Weiss and Yang formed a barrier around Ruby, and Blake joined in, unsheathing Gambol Shroud. She heard Price and Tyson cocking their weapons, glancing over to see they had aimed them at Qrow. Looking around, Qrow held his hands up. “Do whatever you think is best, kid.”

“Jinn?” Ruby asked, taking a long pause as the air continued to stand still. “What is Ozpin hiding from us?”

_"NO!”_

Ozpin lunged forward, broke through their barrier to get to Ruby, but before he could reach her, Blake found herself in nothing, enveloped by an overwhelming whiteness. What was going on? Where _was_ she? She called out for Ruby, Yang, Weiss, but got no response. Before she could try to comprehend her surroundings, an environment manifested itself around her. Green, lush, a path to a castle. She heard a woman humming, but it wasn’t anyone she was familiar with.

“Once upon a time,” Jinn said, as if she were reading from a children’s book. “There stood a lonely tower, that sheltered a lonely girl.”

Blake looked around, spotting the eponymous girl sitting in front of a mirror. There was something… _familiar_ about her, but she couldn’t pin it down.

“Named… Salem.”


	8. The Lost Fable

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The story of a girl.

Locked away by her cruel father, Salem was a girl who desired but one thing: Freedom. She lived in a time when kings and their kingdoms were plentiful, when men and women were capable of greatness, and magic was a gift from the gods that all could wield freely. And yet, there she sat within her tower, alone, unloved, unknown. It was torturous. Imprisoned in a tower, with little more for companionship than the friends she conjured up, but their conversations were always fleeting, never satisfying. Salem believed her life would begin and end in this tower.

Until, however, one day approached a legendary hero to brave the challenges within the tower’s walls. In his gleaming armor, cape billowing freely in the wind, his scepter shining against the rays of the sun, the people of the land knew him as Ozma. Unlike the other challengers who came before, this warrior was not driven by the prize of the young maiden’s hand. He fought only for righteousness, and his pure heart and courageous spirit prevailed over all, it was said.

Ozma fought long and hard against the castle’s challenges. Legions of warriors, well-trained in the martial and magical arts. Puzzles that confounded even the most brilliant minds in the lands. Tricks that would disorient lesser men. Through it all, Ozma persisted until he fought his way up to the tower’s apex, freeing Salem from her captivity. Together, they escaped the wretched fortress, promising each other they would go their own ways, but something drew them together.

Ozma had been willing to give his life for justice countless times, but now he saw a woman worth saving it for. And Salem, to her surprise, found her freedom not in the outside world she had sought, but in the eyes of the very man that had saved her.

“So,” Salem asked. “Where shall we go now?”

Taking her hand in his, Ozma smiled. “Wherever you like.”

The two fell deeply and madly in love, planned adventures around the world, and lived happily ever after.

Or, at least, that’s what it _should_ have been.

Ozma, the inevitable hero of legend, fell ill. Where all the beasts and blades of the world had fallen short, a single tiny sickness prevailed. Salem looked to the skies, asked herself how the Gods could ever let this happen. Why did it have to be _her?_ Why had she been blessed to find joy, only to have that same joy taken away from her when she needed it most? And yet, her faith did not waver. The gods, brothers of light and darkness, creation and destruction. Salem prayed that they would see the injustice wrought upon her, restore the health of her love and make things right.

Salem knew none better to help than the God of Light. His residence, the Domain of Light, was a sacred place. Here, life grew perfectly, lasting for all eternity without fear of sickness or decay. Even things that would never grow elsewhere flourished here, thrived in an environment perfectly suited to all living beings that so wished to reside within. It was here that the elder brother dwelled alongside his fountain of life and creation. This fountain was said to restore life to all who drank from its flowing streams, cure any ailment, repair any wound. It was here that mankind would fall to ruin.

“Please,” Salem pleaded, falling to her knees before the God of Light himself, an incomprehensible form of light. “Please bring him back to me.”

“I understand your pain,” the God of Light said as he cast his gaze upon her. “But you demand that of me which I cannot make so. Life and death are part of a delicate balance.”

Salem did not take kindly to his answer. “So you won’t do it then?”

“To disrupt the cycle of-”

“But that’s not fair,” Salem said. _“That’s not fair!”_

Her petulant declaration echoed across the fountain, across the Domain of Light itself. Stunned, the God of Light paused. He now looked down on her not as a kind, understanding God, but as a stern father, cross with his child for acting out.

“Let. Him. Rest.”

He whisked her away to the bottom of the staircase from whence she had come, banishing her from the fountain. However, Salem was not so easily dissuaded.

“No.”

The God of Darkness. None dared to enter his home, as man knew well what monstrosities emerged from his blackened pools of annihilation, the very depths of destruction itself. One can understand the Dark Lord’s surprise when he found a lone woman kneeling before him. Unlike his brother, the God of Darkness did not care to adopt a form amenable to the human psyche. Those who had the displeasure of seeing him recall different things, the only consistency being that of something clearly unnatural, movements so jerky they broke a man’s mind before he could even blink. His limbs could stretch and bend in ways thought impossible, but even as inhumanity emanated from him, he recognized and understood the thoughts of humans.

Salem was well aware of his surprise. She told him of her loss, professed that she knew only he could answer her prayers, all the while careful not to make mention of his elder brother. She offered Ozma’s prized scepter to him, in hopes that an offering would sate him, convince the Dark Lord to accommodate her request.

“Rise, child,” he said, “and let your faith in me be rewarded.”

She did as ordered. The God of Darkness conjured forth a purple sphere, and from it, appeared her love Ozma. Unlike others blessed with his abilities, the God of Darkness was not a cruel god, and did not make a false version of Salem’s wish out of spite for her. He truly believed that she had full faith in him, and sought to satisfy her request.

“Where am I?!” Ozma coughed as he was brought back to life. “What is this?!? _Where am I?!”_

“It’s okay!” Salem said, embracing Ozma. “Everything’s going to be okay!”

However, Salem was unaware of how wrong she truly was. The God of Light was well aware of Salem’s deception, and broached the barrier to the Land of Darkness, booming thunder marking his arrival as he clenched his fists. The Good Lord looked down upon his brother, and asked him simply, “What have you done?”

“I have done what I please, brother,” the God of Darkness explained, gesturing to Salem and Ozma. “You may bask in the powers of creation, but you do not _own_ them.”

“This is _not_ creation.”

“Do _not_ lecture me!”

“I will do what I must to maintain order.”

The God of Light, acting in what her considered infinite mercy, put his hand out. An orange aura surrounded Ozma, and just as he had appeared, he faded away in Salem’s arms as tears rolled down her face.

“No,” she muttered. “No! What did you do?! _Bring him back!”_

Incensed, the God of Darkness hissed. “You _dare_ enter my domain and show such disrespect?!” Once again, he conjured forth Ozma, by now feeling the effects of constant death and rebirth.

“I am abiding by the rules _we_ agreed upon!” the God of Light declared.

“Rules that I now see are ever in _your_ favor,” his brother snarled. “And yet, the day a mortal comes to pray _at my feet_ before your own, so do _you_ arrive to lay your judgment upon me!”

No longer content with simply rebirthing the man, the God of Darkness transformed into a dragon-like creature. The Grimm that had wandered about, watched the proceedings with middling interest, set upon the God of Light like attack hounds. In a flash of light, so too did the elder brother transform into a dragon, made of pure light. The Grimm had been destroyed, annihilated by the light itself.

“I know we have had our differences,” the eldest said, pacing around in their standoff. “But I have not come here with the aim to control you. The same, however, cannot be said for _her._ This woman came to you only _after_ I denied her pleas – pleas that would have disrupted the balance that you and I created, _together!”_

The younger brother paused. Clearly, he had not considered this, and mulled over the revelation. “Then it seems I owe you an apology,” he finally said, turning back to Ozma. “Allow me to correct my mistake.”

Unlike the God of Light, who acted out of mercy, the God of Darkness sought only cold justice. For the last time, Ozma’s ashes drifted from Salem’s hands, as she sat there helpless to do anything but cry.

“You _monsters!”_ she screamed out, facing the dragons that stood before her. “Give him back to me! _Give him back!”_

Salem brought forth her magic, attempted to strike the gods themselves, but before she could, the God of Light had devoured her.

She awoke with a start, falling from the sky at an impossible height. In a blink, she was in the God of Light’s pool, drowning as an aura-like shimmer covered her body and envelops her like a blanket. Another blink later, and she is back on the surface, catching her breath as the Gods look down upon her, arms folded.

“When you first came to me,” he said. “I did pity you. But it is clear your selfishness and arrogance have led you astray.”

Defiant to the very end, Salem stood up, sputtering as water was ejected from her lungs. “What did you do to me?”

His expression, if he ever had one, was indifferent, almost inconsequential. “I have made you immortal.”

“Immortal?” she repeated, as if she had not heard right.

“You cannot die,” the God of Darkness said. “You cannot be with your beloved.”

“So long as this world turns,” they said in unison, “you shall walk its face.”

“You must learn the importance of life and death,” the God of Light said. “Only then, may you rest.”

Salem found herself transported to a vast open field, with no sign of life to be seen. Once again, she was a prisoner, but not locked away in a tower and abandoned, but left by nobody’s hand but her own. Her fruitless attempts to reunite with Ozma eventually became nothing more than acts of spite and defiance against the Gods. Distraught, she sought any way out of her punishment. She tried every means known to her, even invented a few herself. She killed herself, over and over and over again, felt her body torn asunder by everything she tried, but in the end, nothing worked. Each death was just inflicting pointless, unnecessary pain upon herself.

But, perhaps the Gods were not as powerful as they seemed. She had lied to them, turned them against one another. They, like any mortal they claimed to be above, were fallible. If she were to turn humanity against light and darkness, she could rid herself of their curse, or at the very least, she could make them suffer. She could make them suffer as she had suffered, make them know and understand the pain that had been inflicted upon her.

And so Salem traveled from one kingdom to another, telling tales of how she _stole_ immortality from the Gods, welcomed any swordsman to cut her down and demonstrated her powers. With the kings and queens in awe, she pulled them deeper into her schemes. She painted them pictures of a time when they would no longer have to watch their loved ones wither and die, when they could claim the powers of their creators for themselves, and in turn perfect their own design. All they needed was to destroy their own masters.

The gods had hoped that Salem would learn from her curse, and she did. She learned that the hearts of men are easily swayed. She rallied armies, kingdoms, entire continents, and marched on the God of Light’s domain with them. In their dragon forms, they appeared before the army arrayed against them.

“Who has led you down this path?” the God of Light asked the horde of mortals before him. Salem made her way forward, glaring at the Gods. The God of Darkness snarled, began to attack, but was stalled by a flurry of counter-attacks, of arrows and magic, aimed for him. To the horror of humanity, he caught them in his hand effortlessly, pooling it into a purple sphere.

“My own gift to them,” he said. “Used against me.”

The God of Light looked away in disappointment as the God of Darkness squeezed the sphere, sending a shockwave across the entire world, smiting everything and everyone in its path. Humanity was no more. Only Salem remained among the ashes and dust.

“You thought there was no greater punishment we could bestow upon you?” the God of Darkness asked, almost mockingly.

“I’ll come back,” Salem vowed. “I’ll tell the rest of the world of this massacre! I’ll build a new army!”

“You do not understand,” he replied. “There is _no one_ left. _You_ are all that remains of humanity.”

“This planet was a beautiful experiment,” the God of Light mused. “But it is merely a remnant of what it once was. We will learn from this failure. I hope that you will learn from yours.”

In a cloud of bright dust, the God of Light left, as the God of Darkness shook his head.

“No,” Salem demanded. “You can’t leave! _Come back!”_

“Still demanding things of your creators,” the God of Darkness said. In a beam of purple light, he too disappeared, shattering the moon which threw fragments down to the world. With no other path of recourse, Salem fell on her knees once more, screaming to an empty world.

Once again, Salem was alone. She wandered the world, looked at villages abandoned by humans, domains of Grimm, at the animals still left in the world. She cursed the Gods. She cursed the universe. She cursed everything, everything but herself as she wandered, awaiting a death that would never come.

At least, until fate led her back to the Land of Darkness. This was her answer. This had to be it, the brothers Grimm, the pools of black that continued to give rise to horrific nightmares. If the fountain of life gave her immortality, then surely the pools of Grimm will finally take it away.

She was wrong.

This force of pure destruction could not destroy a being of infinite life. Instead, it created a being of infinite life with a desire for pure destruction. She emerged from the pool, not the beautiful woman she had been before, but an abomination, devoid of all color except red, black and white, the colors of death and Grimm itself. And, in time, she would find her adversary.

Ozma had found himself in white, walking about aimlessly.

“Ozma,” the God of Light said, returning to his human form as Ozma turned around.

“Where am I?”

“We are between realms,” the God explained. “I’m afraid a tragedy has befallen your home at the hands of my brother. We have chosen to depart this world, but in our absence, I would like to offer you the chance to return to it.”

“I… don’t understand,” Ozma said, shaking his head.

“Mankind is no more, yet your world remains. And, in time, your kind will grow to walk its face once again. However, without our presence they will be but a fraction of what they once were.” The God of Light conjured forth a staff, a sword, a crown, and a lamp. “Creation, destruction, choice and knowledge were the ideals upon which humanity was made. Now I leave them behind with the hope that you will learn how to remake yourselves. If brought together, these four Relics will summon my brother and I back to your world, and humanity will be judged. If your kind has learned to live in harmony with one another and set aside their differences, then we shall once again live among you, and humanity will be made whole again. But, if your kind is unchanged, if you demand our blessings while still fighting amongst yourselves, then man will be found irredeemable and your world will be wiped from existence. Until your task is complete, you will reincarnate, but in a manner that ensures you will never be alone.”

Ozma fell to his knees, coming to terms with the immense knowledge and revelations thrust upon him. “I’m sorry,” he said. “But that world just isn’t as dear to me without her. If I may, I’d rather return to the afterlife to see Salem.”

“You will not find her there,” the God of Light said flatly.

“You mean she isn’t gone?”

“Salem lives, but the woman you hold dear in your memories is gone. Heed this warning – where you seek comfort, you will only find pain. So, do you-”

“I’ll do it.”

The God of Light, if he could, would have arched an eyebrow at his immediate acceptance. But, he nodded simply. “Very well. Our creation rests in your hands.”

And so Ozma was reborn. He found himself in a world completely unfamiliar to him. Cities looked different. Creatures known as the Faunus bore fangs and claws and were locked away in cages. And, without the blessing of the Gods, no one could perform magic like mankind was once capable of. No one but himself and the woman known as The Witch.

During his years of travel, he had heard the same frightened whispers of a terrifying sorceress who commanded dark powers in the wilds among beasts and monsters. Ozma was convinced this witch was Salem, and decided he needed to know what she had become. Call it magic or call it something stronger, but in that moment, the two knew exactly who it was that stood before them.

“What do we do now?” he asked.

“Whatever we like,” she replied.

As Salem and Ozma recounted the events which had brought them back together, each withheld parts of their story. Salem, fearing Ozma would reject her, blamed the end of the world on the Gods. Ozma, still unsure of where the truth lay, kept his task and the Relics a secret. Though time passed and all seemed well, Ozma’s conversation with the God of Light still lingered in his mind. He had found happiness, but humanity seemed more divided than ever before.

“Are you surprised?” Salem asked. “This world is quite literally godless. These humans have no one to guide them. Perhaps that’s all they need.”

“What are you saying?”

 _“We_ could become the gods of this world,” Salem proposed. “Our powers surpass all others. Our souls transcend death. We can mold these lands into whatever we want, what _you_ want, create the paradise that the old Gods could not.”

The hearts of men… are easily swayed. The two amassed a following. That following turned into a prosperous kingdom. And, at the head of that kingdom blossomed a family.

But not all was well. Salem, seeking further converts, instructed her followers to conduct warfare in her name, convert those who would not listen. As each war broiled over, she watched with a smile on her face.

“What are we doing?” Ozma asked. “This isn’t what he asked of me.”

“What did you say?” Salem asked.

Their eldest daughter came in the room, excited beyond all measure. “Mother, father, look!” It was a miracle – their children could perform magic. But what _should_ have been a joyous occasion was short-lived.

Ozma told Salem everything, the true reason that the God of Light had brought him back, the Relics they scattered around the world, and the day of judgment he had been told to prepare for.

“Don’t you see?” Salem said. “None of that matters anymore. Why spend our lives trying to redeem these humans when we can replace them with what they could never be?”

He was not convinced. Ozma made plans to leave quietly, but Salem would never have allowed that. They fought, but their fight was brutal and short-lived as Salem’s cruelty overwhelmed Ozma’s skill. She stood over him, her foot on his chest.

“We finally had _freedom,”_ she growled, just before killing Ozma.

Thus began a long and painful cycle of death and rebirth for Ozma. Some lives were spent in mourning. Many more were spent attempting to forget it all. But no matter what, his mind would eventually turn back to the task he had been burdened with. And, as the centuries went on, Ozma began to learn the importance of living _with_ the souls with which he had been paired. But no matter where or how he lived, his presence was always felt.

If humanity were ever to stand a chance at being united, one thing was clear. He had to destroy Salem. Knowing he could never rid the world of her through mortal means, Ozma sought out the power of the Relics. Armed with the Relic of Knowledge, he believed he could fulfill his promise to the God of Light. He asked his questions. Where are the other Relics? What powers do they possess? And though the lamp gave him his answers, not all of them were to his liking.

“How do I destroy Salem?”

“You can’t.”


	9. Dread in the AIr

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Following the devastating revelation, RWBY and XCOM go back on the road.

“Salem can’t be killed,” Xiao Long said, her voice weak, stuttering. “You all heard that too, right?”

“What the _fuck_ do you think the word ‘immortal’ means, sunshine?!” Tyson shouted, throwing his free hand wide. “What the actual _**fuck**_ do you think that implies?! Did we watch the same fucking movie?! Because I watched Salem kill herself a hundred fucking times!”

He watched Xiao Long get angry, but not at him, at the kid, Ozpin. “There was _so much_ you hadn’t told us! How could you think that was okay?!”

Next to him, Price threw down his rifle, unholstering his pistol. No, _Soap’s_ pistol. He checked to make sure a round was chambered, marching over to Ozpin. _**“Hypocrite!”**_ Price shouted, echoing in the empty, snow-covered clearing. _“We trusted you!”_

Price kicked Ozpin over, straddling him and pointing the pistol at his face. “How long?” Price asked. “How _bloody_ long were you planning on hiding this from us?! How long were you going to sit there and call _us_ hypocrites when you’re no better yourself?!”

“I did what I had to,” Ozpin sputtered. “Did you not do the same?”

“Your little divorce case with Salem might have been good to know about before we went on this grand fucking adventure!”

Price held the pistol right to Ozpin’s temple, his finger slipping inside the trigger guard. “I don’t need a bloody genie in a lamp for this. What’s your plan to defeat Salem?”

The air hung silent for several moments, tension so thick Tyson could reach out and touch it. “I don’t have one,” Ozpin confessed.

As if it could be even quieter, the world stopped as it seemed even the wind held its breath. He was sure he could hear each muscle in his body tightening up, the movement of his breath through his lungs, the very _thoughts_ reaching his mind as he came to terms with what Ozpin had said. Tyson saw RWBY and Branwen standing there like statues, mouths agape.

“Meeting you was the worst luck of my life,” Qrow muttered, breaking the silence with a sledgehammer.

“Maybe you’re right,” Ozpin agreed, his head falling back as his eyes flashed for a split second. Back to his normal voice, the kid groaned. “He’s… he’s gone.”

“I’m not done talking to him!” Price yelled. _“Bring. Him. Back!”_

“No, I mean he’s _gone,”_ Oscar replied. “I… I don’t hear him anymore. It’s like he’s locked himself deep in my head – our heard? I don’t know anymore! I hate this! I want it to stop!”

Sighing, Price holstered his pistol as he shook his head. “Bloody useless,” he muttered.

“He just… _left us?”_ Schnee asked.

“What are we supposed to do now?”

Tyson headed over to Price, who had begun smoking a cigar. Man seemed to have an endless supply of them. Unlike his usual stoic demeanor, Price looked all kinds of pissed off. He’d only ever seen Price like this once before, and Tyson was loathe to bring up _those_ old memories.

“Come on,” the old woman said. “We need to get a move on. It’ll be dark before we know it, and each one of you is spewing negativity! There’s a trail that way, trails usually lead somewhere.”

“Lady,” Xiao Long growled, “I don’t know who you think you are but-”

“No buts! I understand that you’re upset. Honestly, I’m still coming to terms with the fact that this is humanity’s _second_ time around. But, if we don’t move, we die. And I’ll be damned if I’ve lived this long just to die out here in the cold!”

“Fucking pointless,” Tyson muttered. “You all heard him, as long as we have that thing, it’s a fucking dinner bell for the Grimm. Salem knows where it is. I’d hazard even if she didn’t back _then,_ she fucking knows if O’Deorain’s with her!”

“Holzmann,” Price said, patting his shoulder. “Let’s drop it.”

“She’s right,” Rose said. “Come on.”

Tyson shook his head as he grabbed what was left of his kit, watching the others grab whatever bags belonged to them. Xiao Long began walking her bike, with the old woman sitting on top of it. He could hear Rose and the kid talking. Didn’t listen – too many possible threats. Had to follow the trail. This entire trip was _fucked_ now. Separated from the rest of the team, without comms, without any fucking hope. The snow was starting to pick up, had come back in full force. If it kept up like this, they’d be buried before morning.

He wasn’t sure how long they’d been marching. Too long. Didn’t have his back, only had the field jacket without the lining because of Mistral’s relative coolness. Cold was affecting him, and Price. Hell, it was affecting _all_ of them.

“Doesn’t look like this is gonna let up,” Branwen noted.

“I just wanna get this stupid relic to Atlas,” Belladonna said.

“Let’s hope we don’t have to _walk_ all the way there.”

Tyson heard something. What was it? He held up a fist, signal that they all knew. Sounded metallic. Where was it coming from? Wind was making it hard to track. Price tapped on his shoulder, pointed to the right. Gate was hiding in the wind and snow. Sign read “Brunswick Farms”.

“Well,” Belladonna said as they approached the gate. “At least one good thing happened today.”

“It looks abandoned,” Schnee said.

“It’s still better than this,” Rose said.

“Come on,” Branwen muttered, swinging the gate open. “I think we could _all_ use some rest.”

Tyson was one of the last in, keeping his head on a swivel as the gate was closed. Snow storm was ramping up, killing visibility.

“Clear the perimeter, Price?” he asked, falling in behind him.

“Yeah. They’re checking out the house. I don’t like the look of this place.”

Tyson nodded, readjusting his grip. “Too many open fields, too many trees. Prime spot for some Mutons to sneak up on us, sir.”

Sighing, Price slowly nodded. “Right. Check the barn first.”

He brought his machine gun up, holding an angle on the door as Price entered first. Looked normal for a farm. Tractor and trailer in the corner. Hay everywhere. Animals had been here at some point. Dust fucking everywhere. It was like whoever had lived here just up and abandoned the entire place one day. He looked around, saw RWBY heading inside. Might not get another chance to bring this up with Price.

“So, Price, not to add more problems to our current situation,” he began.

“Something tells me you’re about to,” he muttered, lighting up a cigar.

Tyson smirked, It was about as subtle as a bunker buster, wasn’t it? “It’s about Belladonna, sir.”

Price’s eyebrows arched as he looked over at Tyson curiously. “Schnee’s friend? What about her?”

He rolled his shoulders back, sore from carrying the machine gun and what was left of his ruck all this way. “She’s under some sort of delusion that I’m a threat to her team. I’ve seen her follow me around, broke into my room to go through some things.”

“She broke into your room?” Price asked, surprised. “What’s your plan here, Lieutenant?”

“I’m not intending to start a witch hunt-”

“Not yet, anyway,” Price interrupted.

Tyson sighed, rubbing his forehead. “I want to talk to Schnee. Cursory details, that kind of thing. Nothing crazy. I’d prefer to be subtle about it.”

“And your solution is to come to me about this?”

“If I go ask to talk to Schnee,” Tyson explained, working through his logic, “then Belladonna will be there and will know something’s up. If you approach Schnee, Belladonna won’t be aware of any subterfuge. You have _reasons_ to talk to her, I don’t.”

Price was silent, stroking his chin for a few agonizingly quiet minutes. “Bloody hell,” he muttered. “I hate it when you’ve got yourself a point. Alright, I’ll-”

A scream from inside the house overwhelmed Price’s words. Without a second’s hesitation, he and Price ran to the house, throwing open the door and entering with weapons drawn. Footsteps upstairs. Tyson aimed up, Price tapping him on the back to indicate he had his back. Together, they advanced up the stairs, finding RWBY and Branwen standing in a room. Inside that room, master bedroom by the looks of it, two decomposing bodies inside.

“Well,” Price muttered. “That’s new.”

Sighing, Branwen shook his head. “You guys stay here, I’m gonna check the other houses.”

“We’ll go with you,” Tyson said. “No use in all of us staying here. Meet up at the well?”

“Yeah, makes sense,” Branwen muttered.

Thus, with a rudimentary plan in place, they headed out of the house. Decomposing bodies. Strange. Tyson and Price headed to the house on the left, while Branwen cleared the house on the right. Locked door. Tyson kicked it in, sweeping his weapon around every corner. Price could cover the downstairs, so he went up.

Similar layout to the first house, if a little smaller. First bedroom had a kid in it. Second one had what must have been the kid’s parents. All dead. Same as the first house. Other rooms were empty, nothing interesting other than furniture and maybe a bookcase.

“Clear up!” Tyson shouted.

“Clear down!” Price replied. “Anything up there?”

“Three bodies, no movement,” he reported as he went down the stairs. “This isn’t alien work.”

“Aliens aren’t subtle,” he replied. “How’d they look?”

Tyson shrugged, lowering his machine gun. “Gray, like the two in that first house. They’ve been dead a while at least.”

Price nodded. “Wasn’t a Faceless then. Would have left blood all over. Alright, let’s get out of this place.”

They left the house behind them, meeting back up with Branwen at the fountain. The storm was positively raging by now, cutting visibility down to almost zero. He reported the same – gray, long dead bodies, not a single living soul here. Tyson wasn’t much religious, but something was just _off_ about this place. He couldn’t pin it down, but something was wrong. It made him far more anxious that he had ever been in his life.

* * *

Qrow, Price and Tyson burst back into the house, brushing snow off themselves as the snow came down in force.

“It’s the same in every house,” Qrow said.

“What?” Yang asked, feeling her eyebrows jump up.

“Bodies. Every bed in every home. It’s like the whole estate went to sleep and never woke up.”

Weiss shivered, looking like she was chilled by the very thought of the scenario. “Then we’re not staying here, right?”

Price shook his head, walking into the study and warming up by the fire. “No choice,” he said. “Storm’s just getting worse. We’d freeze to death before we got anywhere.”

Maria, the old lady, headed over to a bookshelf, pulling out a book seemingly at random. “Well, might as well get comfortable!”

“Yeah,” Yang scoffed, “fat chance.”

Ruby stood up, looking around. “Well, we may as well _do_ something. If this place wasn’t abandoned, it might have supplies we can use.”

“Hey, yeah,” Oscar chimed in. “Maybe even a car.”

“Yang and I can search the other buildings for a vehicle,” Blake said, pretty cheerfully considering the circumstances.

“Fine,” Yang said, rolling her eyes and maybe a bit more annoyed than she wanted to let on. “Whatever gets me out of this house, I guess.”

Yang sighed as she got up, seething as she followed Blake out into the raging storm. Maybe the cold would help quell the rage burning inside her, but that wasn’t looking likely. She and Blake stomped through the snow, trudging their way to an outbuilding. Looked like a garage. Yang went in first, wandering around the place.

“Something tells me that’s not street legal,” Blake said, gesturing to the tractor.

Being out of the house cooled her off a little, in more ways than one. She had managed to clear her head, just take a step back and _breathe._ “What do you think happened here?”

Blake shrugged as they wandered around the garage. Or shed. Whatever the hell it was. “There’s that well out there. Water contamination?”

“Yeah, maybe.” _God,_ her head was fucking pounding. Guess that fight took more out of her than she realized, must have only now been feeling the effects of it. But that didn’t make sense – they’d been on the road for hours. Why was she just now feeling this? It didn’t make sense.

Next to her, she saw Blake’s face turn to worry, reaching out a hand but withdrawing it. “Hey, are you okay?”

If that wasn’t the question of the fucking century. “Yeah,” she lied, before shutting her eyes, wincing as the pounding became worse. “I mean, no…I don’t know. I’m just tired.”

She glanced over, noticing Blake’s ears flatten as she sighed. “Yeah.” Had her ears always done that? Maybe they had. Yang had never really taken notice of her Faunus ears before. Well, whatever, she hadn’t seen _other_ things before so maybe it wasn’t that crazy.

Blake headed off one way, wandering around the shed to find something. Maybe more supplies. Who knew what this place had. All Yang could see was paint. She headed to what must have been the opposite end of the shed, spotting a flatbed trailer. “Hey, I found something,” she reported. Things were looking up for once.

She glanced up, spotting… _oh fuck no._ Not him, not Adam, not here not now. All at once, Yang’s breaths became short, stunted, as if something was weighing down on her chest, sapping the strength from her very lungs. She felt her eyes widen as her jaw slackened, watching _him_ approach with lethal intent and a scowl on his face. Every inch of her wanted to shout, tell him to fuck off, lash out and attack, _murder him,_ but in defiance of the anger and fear boiling inside her very soul, she stood frozen.

“What is it?”

Yang whipped her head around, spotting Blake’s face. All the pain and anger and fear washed away like a sandcastle hit by the incoming tide. “I…” she muttered, looking back at the window as she tried to form words. Adam was gone, as if he had never been there at all. Maybe he wasn’t. Maybe Yang was finally going fucking insane, and this was the first step to that path. She sighed, closing her eyes and rubbing her head. “Sorry, I’m… just seeing things, I guess. I still get flashes from that night, you know?”

She clenched her fist, slowly opening her eyes. Fuck, Blake looked so fucking worried. If there was one thing she _didn’t_ want to see, it was that. “Do you think Adam’s still out there?” Yang dared to ask.

“I don’t know,” Blake replied, frowning. “If he went back to the White Fang, there would have been serious consequences. But… he never really liked people telling him what to do. Adam’s strong, but his real power comes from control. He…he used to get in my head, make me feel small.”

Yang looked down at her hand. Not her real one, her prosthetic. It was so similar, but so different too. Even after thing long, she hadn’t gotten used to it.

Blake suddenly grasped her hand, looking intensely at her. “Hey, I’m not leaving this time. If we ever see him, I promise I’ll be there.” She smiled, and Yang couldn’t help but smile back. God, how she missed seeing that. “And I’ll protect you.”

_Wait, what?_ Did… did she think she needed _protection?_ Was that what this was? “What?” Yang asked, frowning.

“What?” Blake asked obliviously.

Yang pulled her hand away, taking a sharp breath. “Forget it. Let’s just head back.”

“Wait, what about-”

“We’re _fine,”_ Yang spat. “We can hook that flatbed up to Bumblebee in the morning. Mission accomplished.”

“It won’t fit everyone,” Blake said.

Yang stopped, unsure how to react to this. “What are you talking about? It’s big enough.”

Blake sighed, her boots crunching against the dirt floor. “Well, you guys weren’t listening to me, so… I took matters into my own hands.”

“When you start making sense, I’m listening,” Yang said, turning around and arching an eyebrow at Blake.

She sighed again, avoiding Yang’s gaze. “Promise me you won’t get pissed off.”

Yang’s shoulders fell. Fuck, she _had_ been pretty pissy with Blake lately, huh? “I’m just… fucking _tired_ , Blake. I don’t want any more secrets or hiding, you know?”

Blake’s ears went flat again, and Yang couldn’t help but feel like she was about a few steps away from crying right then and there. “Please promise me.”

“Okay,” she said, sighing. “I promise.”

“Okay,” Blake replied, smiling for a split second. “So… I started looking into Tyson. He keeps like, this _journal_ or something, I dunno what to call it. It has everyone he’s ever met in it, and like… I don’t know if they’re notes or codenames or what, but _everyone’s_ there. You, me, Weiss, Ruby, Qrow…”

Yang furrowed her brow, swallowing. “W-wait, so, like, what, I don’t get it, you think he’s spying on us or something?”

“I’m saying it’s a little too convenient. Moira leaves, possibly defects to Salem, and then we get attacked?”

Yang sighed, trying to work her way through this. This fucking headache just wouldn’t go away. “Well, you heard Ozpin, the Grimm are attracted to the Relic anyway. So it’s not like-”

“Even if we want to assume he’s lying to us again,” Blake reasoned, “don’t you agree that it’s just too big of a coincidence that Moira leaves and we get attacked? Tyson himself said if the Relic didn’t already do it, Moira would have told Salem.”

 _Shit._ She was right. What had he meant by that? “Okay, yeah, I guess… well fuck. I hate it when you’re right. Okay, so… what? How do you wanna do this? What’s step 2?”

Blake paused, looking away. “I… I don’t know. I haven’t figured it out yet. He knows I’m on to him.”

“You think he’s for real a spy for Salem?”

“I don’t think _anything_ yet,” Blake replied. “I just know what I’ve told you.”

Yang sighed, before turning around again, making her way out of the shed. “Well, maybe we should just… I don’t know, sleep on it or something. Maybe not even Price knows.”

“Or he might be complicit,” Blake said.

“Yeah, he very well might be,” Yang said, as much as she didn’t want to accept that possibility. “Let’s just play it by ear, yeah? We can figure it out in the morning.”

Blake sighed, following Yang out. “Alright. That should be fine.”

* * *

Despite having a full night’s sleep, Tyson awoke in the morning feeling like he had been on the road for a week. They woke up too late – Branwen had said sunrise, and the morning sun was definitely well in the sky by the time he and RWBY had begun to stir. Even Price looked tired, but maybe he had reason to be. By now, they had gathered outside, waiting for the trailer to get attached to Xiao Long’s motorcycle. God, they _all_ looked like garbage this morning. They resembled the psionic zombies he had seen in Milan, shambling, listless, lifeless corpses without purpose or direction.

“There,” Schnee muttered.

“Can we just go back to bed?” the kid asked.

Belladonna yawned, leaning her head on her hand. “Maybe if we’re all so tired, we should make breakfast?”

“You wanna make it?”

She paused, stared off into the distance. “Not really.”

Rose sauntered out of the house, as upbeat and enthusiastic as ever. At least _somebody_ was chipper this morning. “You guys got the bike ready?” In response, Xiao Long simply gestured to it, a neutral look locked on her face.

Branwen sighed, rested a foot on it. “Well, it’s done now. So let’s hook it up and -”

Interrupting his words, the tire on the other side blew out, prompting a groan from the man. Tyson rolled his eyes, folding his arms. Fucking pointless. This was all a waste of time.

“You people certainly are beacons for bad luck, aren’t you?” Calavera noted.

“I’m starting to think the universe doesn’t _want_ us to go to Atlas,” Xiao Long mumbled.

“It’s just a flat,” Rose said, sighing heavily. “I’m…sure there’s a spare.”

“It’s not just that, it’s everything. Storms, crashes, monsters… I’m so tired.”

“Me too,” Belladonna chimed in. “It feels like we’re always having to fight to get by.”

Tyson and Price kept quiet. They knew best of all how tiring this sort of fight could get. Hell, just getting on Remnant and facing this insanity was tiring enough. His eyelids felt heavy, every limb like it weighed a hundred tons. The belts of ammo in his pouch felt like chunks of concrete, an impossibly heavy weight that had been levied upon him. Shit, he had been tired, but he had never been this _exhausted_ before. Just 24 hours ago he had been active, in combat, the only focus on his MG3’s sights and the Grimm in front of him. But now…now he could really do with a long nap.

“Yeah,” Rose agreed. “But that’s what we signed up for.”

“We signed up to save the world,” the kid chimed in. “Not just… delay the inevitable.”

Schnee rubbed her arm, sighing. “Last night, I… I couldn’t stop thinking. Why _are_ we even going to Atlas?”

Tyson watched RWBY and the two hangers-on share troubled looks, the previously unspoken question nobody wanted to answer. Well, now it was out in the open, hanging in the air like Schnee’s very words had come out with her breath.

“Weiss, we _have_ to,” Rose said.

“Why?” Xiao Long challenged. “Ozpin hid the Relics behind giant doors under enormous schools, but… how long would it take Salem to find a lamp in the middle of nowhere?”

“What?” Rose asked. “The Grimm might-”

“They’d find it eventually, yeah, but bury it or just throw it down the well, it would take years. It might not even happen in our lifetime. But we could be done with it _now.”_

Tyson watched Rose unlatch the Relic from her belt, glancing at it before looking back at her teammates. _Wait a second,_ he thought to himself. There was something wrong here. Why were they acting like this? Something did not make sense, and he wasn’t sure if he was going crazy or if this was something far more sinister. Blinking, he looked around, meeting eyes with Price. He was thinking the same thing, surely, judging by the panic in his eyes. Tyson looked back at Rose’s friends. They all had the same blank look on their faces. Silently, Rose wandered over to the well, holding the Relic above it.

_“_ _Don’t do it!”_ Price shouted, breaking into a sprint. Startled, Rose jumped, her grip on the Relic becoming loose. Tyson’s eyes grew wide as he watched it tumble into the well, running over with Price. Together with Rose, they watched it helplessly tumble into the pitch black below.

“No, no, no!” Rose shouted. “I didn’t mean to!”

Rose’s friends gathered around, still staring at her with their blank, lifeless faces.

“Ruby, it’s okay,” Schnee said monotone.

“No!” Rose shouted. “No, there’s something down there! I saw it, it was looking at me!”

Xiao Long put a hand on her sister’s shoulder, no hint of emotion in her face. “Hey, it’s okay. You just said you’re tired. It’s probably nothing. Now let’s go.”

“Fucking Christ,” Tyson muttered. “Price, please tell me you’re seeing this?”

“I see it, Lieutenant,” Price whispered.

Rose smacked her sister’s hand away, recoiling as if she was being attacked by a snake. “What’s wrong with you?!? We can’t just _leave,_ we have to go down there! We have to get the lamp back! Oh, what was I thinking?!”

“All we _have_ to do,” Branwen shouted from his post, “is fix this trailer! Hey, farm boy, check the shed for a spare.”

 _“_ _I’m not leaving without the lamp!”_ Rose shouted. Had Tyson ever heard her shout before? He wasn’t sure.

Just as lazily, her teammates agreed to go down with her, jumping down into the well as Branwen stalked off into the house. Tyson scanned the area. He couldn’t _see_ any Sectoids, but that didn’t mean they weren’t there. Did the aliens have their Avatar back up? Unlikely. Maybe a Priest? No, the Priests usually just bolstered friendly troops, never did anything to fuck with people’s heads.

“Holzmann,” Price said, taking out his magazine to check ammo. “Let’s do another perimeter sweep. Something’s not right.”

“Agreed,” Tyson replied. Half a belt left. Should be enough in case anything came out. Something had him on edge now. Fuck, it was like night and day. The fog of earlier, whatever the hell it was, had been cleared away like the first cup of coffee of the day.

He and Price began scouting the perimeter again, checking every little corner, every greenhouse, each building, as if there were secrets hidden inside. Neither wanted to venture a guess into what was causing this fog, but Tyson was sure Price’s answer was the same conclusion he had reached – alien psionics. They had just made it back to the well, crossing to cover the shed again when a scream emanated from the well.

“The fuck was that?” Tyson muttered.

“Sounded like Rose,” Price said.

In a split second the old woman, with a nimbleness that betrayed her apparent frailty, leaped into the well, darkness enveloping her the second she dove in. Weapons fire from inside the well, but no lights.

“Wait a second,” Tyson said. “If they’re in there and we’re hearing weapons fire-”

“Aliens might be in there,” Price concluded.

He took off, kicking in the door of the house. Tyson followed, running past Branwen drinking alone in the house’s well-stocked bar. The pair breached the house's lower floors, before following a creaky old staircase down below. They looked left, right, left again in the dusty old basement, before their eyes settled on a pair of cellar doors.

“Wine cellar,” Price said. “Only reason this one would be so well-stocked, additional stores right underneath.”

A bright flash of light emanated from the doors, followed up by shouting.

“Price, if there’s aliens down there -”

“I know, I know, get the bloody doors open!”

Price and Tyson tried to move the wooden board locking the doors, but found it uncooperative. It was like it was fucking frozen in place. Banging on the door. _Alright,_ Tyson thought, _no other way._

“Stand back, Price,” Tyson said, replacing the belt in his machine gun.

“What’s your plan?”

“Anyone behind the door that wants to live,” he shouted, “get the fuck back in five seconds!”

Five count.

Four.

Three.

Two.

One.

Tyson leveled his MG3 at the door, unleashing a hail of bullets, watching the barrel heat up and start to smoke as gunpowder and flooded through it. 7.62 NATO saved the day again as the board broke. Xiao Long punched her way through the door, scrambling out with her team and the old woman. Price grabbed Belladonna and Xiao Long, while Tyson grabbed the old lady. Rose and Schnee were right behind them.

“Go! Go! Go!” Price shouted, running out of the house as agonizing moans sent shock waves emanating out of the basement. Tyson found himself knocked down by these things. What the _fuck_ was going on?

As they ran past the bar, the old woman broke off, started running ahead. Branwen was still drunk, didn’t know what was going on. Rose stopped, started tugging at her uncle.

“Uncle Qrow!” she shouted. “Get up!”

“Hey, get off me,” he slurred. “What’re you doing here?”

“We’re fucking _leaving,_ you moron!” Tyson shouted, grabbing him and dragging the man out. Daybreak. They were back outside.

 _“Oscar!”_ Price shouted. “Get the vehicle started! Let’s go!”

Tyson threw Branwen onto the trailer, hopping in behind him as Rose and Schnee made their way out. Flames began to consume the building as Xiao Long revved up her bike, waiting for them to pile in.

“Go!” Price shouted, banging on the bike’s back. Wasting no time, Xiao Long sped off, and the burning farm quickly became a distant effigy as they drove away, the unpaved dirt road jostling and bouncing them at every little bump. Tyson breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever the fuck had happened, they had survived.


	10. Dead End

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> RWBY and XCOM reunite with JNPR in Argus.

The trip to Argus was uneventful, minus a long story from Maria Calavera about her silver eyes, the singular power she held above all over the Grimm until an unknown brigand took her eyes – and thus her power – away. The tiny trailer casually threw them around, uneven roads tipping the tires every which way but forward, it seemed. Tyson and Price merely listened in silence as Maria Calavera relayed her story, revealing the Grimm Reaper herself was not a mysterious legend, but a frail old woman whose prosthetic eyes were in need of repair.

What was more interesting to him was that Rose’s silver eyes were apparently one in a million, a deadly weapon against the Grimm, for reasons not even Calavera understood. She’d have to harness the power, learn to use it against the Grimm. It was just another feather in their cap that they’d hope would be useful. Either way, Argus was now within sight.

The sloped streets, narrow houses that lined streetcar paths, and unique housing style reminded Tyson of San Francisco. If he didn’t know any better, he’d have figured he had been transported to an East Coast version of the city. Eventually, Xiao Long and her bike slowed down, rolling into a storage shed as the other halves of XCOM and Schnee’s friends met up with them. They didn’t look any worse for wear – their plan obviously worked.

“So, what’s the situation?” Price asked as RWBY and her teammates caught up. Looked like Nikos had broken off to join them. Things must be getting patched up

“We’ve been staying with Jaune’s sister and her family. They’re very nice people,” Amari reported. “What happened after the train was disconnected?”

Price winced, pursing his lips. “We’ll talk in-depth about it later. All that’s important is we had to take a bit of a detour.”

“You were gone for five days, Price,” Amari said, concern in her voice. “We weren’t sure how long we were going to wait for you.”

“The word Captain Price is looking for here is ‘train crash,’ ma’am,” Tyson filled in. “Had to take refuge in an abandoned farm.”

Amari’s eyebrows shot up, clearly surprised by this particular revelation. “Price, didn’t I tell you to be careful out there?

“Right,” he muttered. “Let’s just get to our accommodations. Going to have to have a little sit-down with the rest of the team.”

They fell in behind RWBY, following them to a trolley that’d take them to where they would be staying as Nikos kept herself inconspicuous. It was a small, narrow house that was almost exactly like the others around it, built with brown and white plaster splitting the two levels. Creme-colored trim, marble pillars. Ornate decorations around every window. Blue and yellow flowers that bloomed despite being covered in snow. Didn’t look like a hotel.

As they got off the trolley, Tyson heard the door opening, closing a second later. He looked up to see a blonde woman, kid in her arms, waving to them. No, to Arc.

“Is that…?” Xiao Long asked.

“Hey, Saph,” Arc said, waving meekly back.

Rose screamed, practically zipping up the stairs as they made their way in.

“Arc’s sister, Saphron.” Amari explained. “I suppose Ruby is excited?”

“Hmm,” Price muttered. “Can they be trusted?”

“Price, they’re his _family,”_ Amari said, somewhat shocked he’d even insinuate such a thing.

In response, Price sighed, tossing away the cigar he had been smoking. “Right. Because families can always be trusted.”

“One of them could be a Faceless,” Tyson reminded her. “Wouldn’t be the first time.”

“I don’t think we have anything to fear,” Amari said.

Price and Tyson said nothing as they went in. Place was nice, far better than that cursed farm. Hell, at this point he’d take anything. Even a bunk on the _Avenger_ beat that farm.

They continued to watch silently as RWBY fussed over the kid, Saphron’s wife was introduced, and food was made for the evening. A hasty, falsified reason for their visit to Argus was made, with the elder XCOM members posing as professors accompanying junior Huntsmen and Huntresses on an extended training mission. The wife, Terra, ducked out for a moment, had to answer a call from work. Sounded like there was problems with the town’s relay tower, and the Atlesian military was blaming her for its issues.

“So,” Saphron said, eagerly looking among them. “What’s your plan for tomorrow?”

“Well,” Ruby said in between bites of sandwich. “We’re trying to make our way to Atlas. We’ll probably start with the military base.”

Valkyrie and Ren shared a concerned look. Arc rubbed the back of his head, while Freeman and Amari drew sharp breaths. “Here we go,” Freeman muttered.

“So,” Arc said nervously. “We kind of already tried that, and…it didn’t go super great.”

“Come on,” Xiao Long said. “It couldn’t be _that_ bad.”

“We can probably go in the morning-” Belladonna began to say.

“No,” Amari said, strongly vetoing the very idea. “We are _not_ to go back there under any circumstances.”

“Right,” Price muttered. “We need to have ourselves a little talk.”

Branwen nodded, looking to Arc’s sister. “Mrs. Cotta-Arc, I want to thank you for opening your home to us, and express how grateful we are for your help.

“Oh, no problem!” she said, smiling. “Always happy to help Huntsmen and Huntresses!”

“Unfortunately,” he continued. “May I ask you to give us some time alone? We need to discuss some rather _sensitive_ things.”

“Oh! Oh, alright, I see! Of course, I can do that,” she said, taking the kid with her.

Tyson took a deep breath as she headed into another part of the house. This conversation could get fucked six ways to Sunday, and he wasn’t sure if he was ready to see it go down.

* * *

Perhaps rather predictably, Arc reacted angrily, punching a nice new crack into his sister’s wall.

“Jaune!” Rose shouted.

“Everything we did was for _nothing!”_

“That’s not true,” Belladonna said.

“Really?” Valkyrie asked. “Cause it sure does _sound_ like it!”

“If Salem can’t be killed,” Ren asked, “then how are we supposed to win this?”

The room was silent. Oscar sure as hell didn’t have any ideas, not with Ozpin locking himself away. Price certainly couldn’t confess anything. Arc shook his head, scoffing.

“Wow,” he muttered sarcastically. “Great plan, everyone!”

“Look,” Oscar said. “None of this is great, we know, but we’re not the bad guys here!”

“Are we sure about that?” Arc said, suddenly hostile. Tyson glanced over to Price – this could get real ugly real quick.

“What?”

“He’s in _your head,_ isn’t he?!” Arc demanded, stomping over to Oscar. “Didn’t you already know about this?!”

“He didn’t know any of it!” Schnee protested, but her claims fell on deaf ears.

Arc grabbed the kid, shoved him up against the wall and stared right into his eyes, almost as if he was about to kill. Given the circumstances, maybe he _was._ “How do we even know it’s really him?! What if we’ve been talking to that _liar_ this whole time!”

Price unholstered Soap’s pistol, holding it to Arc’s temple and flicking the safety off. “Enough,” he commanded. “Put him down.”

“You’re not crazy enough to shoot me,” Arc muttered.

“I held this gun to _his_ head a few days ago. I’m going to ask you again. Put. The kid. Down.”

Silence. The room remained locked in place, with Arc keeping his grip on Oscar’s shirt as he held him against the wall, terror in his eyes.

 _“Jaune!”_ Rose shouted, glaring at him. Arc returned the look, then his face softened as he dropped the kid. With a clatter, Arc headed upstairs, a door slamming shut not long after.

“Is he…” Xiao Long asked, “is he gonna be okay?”

“I don’t know!” Valkyrie shouted, stomping off.

Ren shook his head, arms folded as he followed her out. “I think it would be best if we had some time to ourselves.”

Once again, silence filled the air. “Maybe we could all use some space,” Belladonna said.

“Schnee,” Price said, gesturing for her to follow him. “Come with me.”

Curious, Schnee followed. _Guess we’re doing this now,_ Tyson thought. He fell in behind them, making sure not to draw too much attention. Belladonna didn’t seem to notice. Good. Price took the three of them to a secluded side-room, closing the door behind him as Tyson came in.

“What’s going on?” she asked.

“Lieutenant, if you would,” Price said.

Tyson cleared his throat, folding his arms as he stepped forward. “I have some questions about your friend Belladonna.”

“Blake?” Schnee asked, confusion written on her face. She looked to Price, who didn’t offer any assistance.

“What does she know about XCOM?”

Schnee’s confusion gave way to cautioned wariness, narrowing her eyes. “I told her that XCOM is a paramilitary force dedicated to stopping the aliens. We told her you’re good people.”

“Is that the exact wording you used?” Tyson asked.

“I-I don’t know,” Schee said, blinking in confusion and taken aback by the suddenness of his question. “What does it matter?”

“Has Belladonna been acting strange lately?”

“No,” she replied. “Why do you want to know?”

“Schnee, we know your team had an argument,” Price said. “Both at base and on the train. Amari told us about it.”

For a split second, Schnee’s face was in shock, betraying her attempts to maintain a stoic facade. She took a deep breath, almost as if she was steeling herself to maintain a lie. _“Yes,”_ she admitted. “We had an argument. But that _happens_ sometimes. I would like to know why you’re so insistent on knowing these things.”

Tyson glanced over to Price. The indifferent look on his face told Tyson everything he needed to know – as far as Price cared, this was _his_ show. Tyson looked back at Schnee, trying to judge if she was being obstinate on purpose or genuinely trying to look out for her friend. Maybe it was both.

“Alright, I guess we can’t beat around the bush any longer,” he said. “I’d prefer if this didn’t leave this room, but realistically I can’t stop either of you from speaking about it.”

Price and Schnee both stared at him, silently asking for Tyson to explain further.

“While we were on the train, my personal journal went missing. Before the crash, I caught Belladonna returning it to my room. She was doing everything possible to make it look like it was never gone. When I asked her why she had stolen from me, she said she considered me a threat to her team.”

“Blake would never _steal_ anything,” Schnee retorted.

“First time for everything,” he said. “Did you know this journal existed?”

“No,” Schnee said.

“What about your friends? Xiao Long? Rose? Did they know?”

“No!”

“Then she didn’t tell any of you. So, that means she broke into my room, took my property, and tried to cover it up. Why?”

“I don’t know,” Schnee said, furrowing her brow and crossing her arms. “Why don’t you ask _Blake_ why she thinks you’re a threat?”

“Why do _you_ think she thinks that?” Tyson challenged.

 _“I don’t know,”_ Schnee repeated. “But I’m starting to see why she _would.”_

Price sighed, stepping out of the shadows. “Alright you two. Schnee, you’re free to leave.”

Schnee nodded, thanking Price as she left the room, slowly closing the door behind her.

Price, however, stood there with his arms crossed, looking pretty pissed off. “I thought I told you to get rid of that journal.”

“You know why I have it.”

He was not impressed. “Lieutenant, I see where you’re coming from, but neither of you are clear in this. Drop it before we make things worse.”

Tyson let out a short, hollow laugh. “Worse? How can we possibly make things worse, Captain?”

“I’d rather not tempt fate. If you’ve still got it, get rid of that journal.”

Price stepped out of the room, leaving Tyson alone once again. Once Price had made his mind up, little could make him change it. He’d have to be more careful. Too much in it to just toss out like garbage.

* * *

Pyrrha wasn’t sure how to accept being back in Argus.

She had seen the memorial to her in the square, hiding her presence since. Different hairstyle, the French uniform she wore, both saw to it that few recognized her. God, what if her mother was still living here? What if by some chance she saw Pyrrha? She wasn’t sure if she was ready for that.

And yet, that seemed pretty small compared to the idea that the very thing she had dedicated her life to was nothing but a great big lie. She had been told that Salem could be stopped. That what Ozpin was doing was for the betterment of Remnant. Now, Pyrrha had to face the horrible reality that she had been lied to, deceived.

Right now, the entire world seemed to be conspiring to make her feel impossibly small.

She hoped that this revelation – as surprising to her as it was to Jaune, Ren and Nora – wouldn’t break the already tenuous bridges she had built with them. She knocked on Jaune’s door, dreading that he would refuse to answer. Pyrrha couldn’t blame him if he did. She wouldn’t even blame him if he opted to take the easy way out, rid himself of this problem forever. But, that was a rather permanent solution, and as much as she had wanted to do it on Earth a few times while fighting for XCOM, she could never bring herself to commit to the deed.

After about a minute, she head the door open. Jaune looked like hell. His very expression was the definition of the word depressed, speaking depths to the struggle he was now facing. Who wouldn’t, after all this?

“Hey,” he said quietly.

“Hi,” Pyrrha said, trying to smile.

Jaune sighed, opening the door. “I guess you wanna talk. Come on in.”

Pyrrha hesitantly stepped in, watching Jaune retreat to the safety of the bed. Behind her, the door slowly squealed closed, a soft click the only indication they were now alone and cut off from the world now.

“You’re not wearing that jacket anymore,” Jaune said.

Pyrrha frowned, looking down. Right. She had taken off the field blouse when the heating in the house became a bit too much for her, only keeping her combat pants and the black undershirt she had started wearing on. She sighed, sitting down next to Jaune. “I…I got a little hot.”

Jaune scoffed, staring at the floor. “Sometimes, I wish I’d never gone to Beacon.”

“Why?” Pyrrha asked, shocked Jaune would ever say such a thing.

“Because if I had never faked my way in, then I wouldn’t be _here,”_ he said. “I would never have known about any of this. I’d have just…been totally unaware, happy to just _be._ I’d never have the responsibility of the entire world on my shoulders.”

Pyrrha paused, wanted to reach out and touch him, reassure him it would all be okay. But, she feared that coming from her, her words would be hollow and without any meaning. Perhaps just touching him would be okay. In the end, however, she decided to just use words. “Jaune, if you weren’t here, then all those people on the train wouldn’t have made it out. Who knows what would have happened if you hadn’t been there to help boost Ren’s Aura.”

“Yeah,” he muttered. “I guess you’re right. But I also wouldn’t have been here to drag my sister and her family into this, bring danger to her home.”

“But there’s no danger here, Jaune.”

“We have the Relic,” he said flatly. “It being _near_ us means we’re in danger.”

Pyrrha sighed. For all his smarts, Jaune could be an absolute _idiot_ sometimes. She wasn’t sure if he ever recognized it. Maybe he thought he did, assigned blame to himself where it wasn’t due, but she couldn’t keep doing this song and dance with him. Not again.

“Jaune,” she said, swallowing hard to suppress any notions of being overly emotional. “I understand where you’re coming from, I really do. Do you think I’m not scared too?”

“It’s more than just being _scared,_ Pyrrha,” Jaune replied, standing up and starting to pace. “Why are we even doing all of this? If she can’t be killed, what’s the point?”

“We have to have faith. Maybe Atlas can help us, maybe-”

 _“They said she’s immortal!”_ Jaune yelled. “You can’t kill somebody who’s immortal!”

Pyrrha took a sharp breath in, closing her eyes and she shook her head solemnly. “Just like you can’t bring back the dead?”

His pacing stopped. She suddenly became aware of her own breathing, slow deliberate breaths as if she had never truly known how to breathe in the first place. She heard Jaune sigh, the squeak of bedsprings as he sat back down.

“Look, even _if_ we want to buy that,” he said, “what can Atlas possible help us with?”

“I don’t know,” Pyrrha admitted. “But I have to believe. Something has to give, Jaune, and I don’t think it’ll be this team.”

She looked up, seeing he was still staring at the floor as if it held answers for him. Shaking his head, he looked up, first at the wall, then at her. “You know I always liked you, right?”

“W-well,” Pyrrha said, blushing. “Um, the… the more I thought about it on Earth, the more I realized it, yes.”

“I really don’t know what’s worth fighting for anymore,” Jaune said, shrugging. “I always thought I’d be like… some famous Huntsman or something, but I met you and… I don’t know. It was like I had something real.”

Pyrrha found herself smiling, looking away to brush a lock of hair out of her face. “Well, if it makes you feel any better Jaune, I never much knew what I was fighting for until I met you, either.”

She looked back to see him smiling as well. This was a sight she had missed. So much had changed since she left, but so much was the same too. It was as if she was right back at Beacon’s grounds, sitting with him outside the cafeteria, training with him under the moonlit night, and wandering without aim on campus. It was something she had missed every day she was on the _Avenger._

“Jaune, I-”

“Wait,” he said, his eyes suddenly growing wide. “I have an idea!”

Without even waiting for her to ask what it was, he bolted out of the room, calling for everyone to gather around. She sighed, frowning. Maybe another time.

* * *

“So, I have an idea,” Jaune announced. “But it’s sort of a… ‘never going back’ kind of idea.”

The teams – XCOM, RWBY, JNPR – stood in front of Jaune, waiting for him to say expand upon his idea. Price smoked a cigar, shrugging. “Let’s hear it, then.”

“With Cordo on watch, only Atlas airships have the clearance to leave for Solitas. So… we… _steal_ an Atlas airship.”

Pyrrha’s jaw dropped, and she watched similarly shocked expressions cross her friend’s faces, while XCOM’s officers merely arched eyebrows. Freeman, on the other hand, chuckled, shaking his head.

 _“Wow,_ ” he said, smiling wide. “And you guys said _I_ come up with stupid ideas. Man, I’ve got like, seven hundred counts of shooting military guys in self-defense, but I don’t have sneaking onto a military base and stealing a military airship in self-defense on _my_ list of charges.”

“This is some kind of a joke, right?” Tyson asked, incredulous. “Like, we aren’t _seriously_ considering this avenue of approach?”

“That’s not just breaking the law,” Weiss said. “That’s… that’s definitely _worse.”_

“How would we even get _into_ the airfield?”

“That part I haven’t quite figured out yet, but-”

“Okay, _stop,”_ Qrow said, holding his hand out. “Just… _stop._ Look, if this thing goes south, it’s not something we can just fight our way out of. This is the _Atlas Military_ we’re talking about. For _your_ sake, just drop this.”

“I want to hear him out,” Ruby declared, a look of determination on her face.

Qrow sighed, shaking his head slowly. “Ruby…”

 _“I want to hear him out!”_ she yelled. “I know you’re trying to protect us, that you’re afraid we can’t do it, but right now I don’t care what you think! Just because none of _you_ have an idea, doesn’t mean we’re out of options!”

Price tapped away some ashed, humming. “Good thing is, you’ve got two old people here who are more than capable of sneaking onto bases. So, let’s go over this plan of yours. Does anyone have a map of this place?”

* * *

Weiss hated this part of the plan. Really, every part of it was disagreeable to her. But, she had to trust Ruby. Had to trust Price. They had all been there for her in the past, and there was no reason to distrust them now.

“Ah, I was relieved to hear that you had come to your senses, Miss Schnee,” Cordovin said, breaking Weiss out of her thoughts. “Many of us were devastated when we heard you would be attending _Beacon_ Academy. Knowing you’ll be returning to Atlas just warms my old heart.”

“Well,” Weiss said hesitantly, hoping her acting had gotten _much_ better since her childhood. “It was… time to get my act together and go back to my roots.”

“I can’t _wait_ to see you follow in your sister’s footsteps.”

Weiss almost cringed at the very thought. “Absolutely…”

“Now, unfortunately your little _bodyguards_ can’t come with you, for security reasons,” Cordovin said, gesturing to Price and Tyson behind her. Price stepped forward, lighting up a cigar. Weiss could only hope she would buy this.

“I don’t think you understand,” Price said. “We _are_ going with Miss Schnee.”

The officer stared back, arching an eyebrow and looking up at Price despite her diminutive stature. “You would _dare_ dictate affairs to me? I command this base!”

“And we were sent here by Specialist Schnee to recover her sister,” Price said, strong but firm.

“That’s preposterous,” she claimed. “I would know about this!”

Price hummed, nodding. “That’s what they all say.”

Weiss suppressed a smile as she watched Cordovin’s face fill with offense. “I dare say you are impersonating Atlesian military personnel! I’ll have you arrested!”

“Oh, you think so?” Price said, tapping away on his cigar and pulling out his Scroll. “Well, I could always call General Ironwood right now, tell him that we’ve been held up by an incompetent and overly wound base commander.”

True to his word, the contact he showed on his screen was General Ironwood – but perhaps not the man himself. Weiss had copied Ironwood’s contact picture in Qrow’s Scroll, changed the contact name so that Qrow lined up with Ironwood. It was a deceptively simple ruse, but it looked like it might work.

“Go ahead!” Cordovin said. “You won’t reach him.”

“Bold of you to assume he won’t be nearby to see our mission done,” Price muttered, dialing the number. Cordovin watched with a smug look on her face as Price put the Scroll up to his ear, which he matched with a stare of his own. Muffled words. Weiss couldn’t hear them, and assumed Cordovin couldn’t either.

“Yes sir, this is Specialist Price, authorization Bravo Delta One Niner,” Price said, acting as if he was actually talking to a general. “Yes, sir, target package is in custody. Being held up by a local base commander, name Cordovin. Negative, refuses care team access to continued safety of target package, sir.”

As Price sold the ruse, Cordovin’s eyes turned to dinner plates, and she began scrambling. “Wait! Wait! Uh, could I perhaps… speak to General Ironwood? Smooth this situation over?”

Price gave her a skeptical look, before turning back to the fake general. “Sir, Cordovin wishes to speak with you. It seems she thinks we’re not actually SOU.” In response, a flurry of barely-heard words could be heard emanating from the speaker as Price pulled his head away. By all accounts, it seemed like “General Ironwood” was not happy. “Understood sir,” Price said as the yelling stopped. “I’ll let her know.”

Cordovin was practically shaking in her boots by now. Truth be told, it made Weiss a little happy to see it. She could see her trying to come up with an explanation, find some way to deny them entry. “Well,” Cordovin finally said, “I’ve never heard of you before! So I need to see some ID before I let you in!”

Price remained nonplussed, rolling his eyes. “Right. Don’t you think maybe there’s a _reason_ you haven’t heard of us before? Granted, it won’t be _us_ on the line if we’re held up. _You’d_ have to answer for it.”

She gulped, and Weiss could see immediately the fear crossing her face. “Of course, right this way then! Ah, please do let General Ironwood I was only looking out for the safety and security of Atlas’s strategic assets!”

“Will do,” Price muttered, right behind Weiss as he and Tyson headed on.

Well, so far, so good. Calavera was in Weiss’s “luggage”, thankfully not scanned or handled by anyone other than herself. Price and Tyson took up the mantle of acting as her bodyguards almost perfectly, eyeing the pilots as they took off. They were speaking to themselves in Russian, the pilots totally unaware of anything out of the ordinary. Several minutes passed. They were almost out of range of the radar. Weiss checked her Scroll. Ruby was out of range. She nodded to Price and Tyson, who headed up to the cockpit.

With great speed and efficiency, they knocked the pilots out. “Goodnight,” Price muttered, as he and Tyson dragged them out of their seats and tossing them into the back, tied up with zip ties in case they woke up mid-flight. Maria emerged from the luggage, taking over piloting the craft. Time to circle back and pick up the rest of the team.

The radio began to crackle. “Manta 5-1, this is Argus Base. We see you circled back. What’s your status, over?”

“Why can they see us?” Weiss asked, feeling panic enter her voice.

“Sounds like someone dropped the ball,” Price muttered. “Lieutenant?”

“On it,” Tyson said, grabbing a radio. “Argus Base, this is Manta 5-1, we have a sensor reading a fuel leak in engine 2. Making unscheduled landing to do a maint check. Interrogative, did ground crew check craft and clear? Over.”

Silence. Maria stared at Tyson, opened her mouth to say something, but the radio came back to life again. “Manta 5-1, this is Argus Base. That’s an affirmative, ground crew reported no issues. Do you need a ground team to assist, over?”

“Negative Argus Base, probably a loose coupling somewhere. We can fix it ourselves, over.”

“Understood, Manta 5-1. Safe flying. Argus Base out.”

Tyson put the radio back calmly, taking a deep breath and letting it out. Price patted his shoulder, staring out ahead into the blue ocean in front of them. “Good job, Lieutenant. They don’t suspect a thing.”

“That radar not being down is making me nervous,” Maria said. “Are we _sure_ everything’s in place?”

“Ruby,” Weiss said, bringing her up on her Scroll. “Why is the radar still up?”

“We don’t know!” she said. “Blake’s not responding.”

“Maintain the plan,” Price reminded them. “They don’t know anything’s wrong. As far as they know, we’re legitimate.”

The airship landed near the remains of the team, with Freeman hanging around waiting for something to happen. Price and Tyson urged them onto the craft, to move faster. So far so good.

Unfortunately, Weiss heard the telltale signs of alien aircraft moving in. She looked to the skies, eyes wide as the rest of her team began to scan as well. The aliens were _here._ A deafening roar. The Grimm. _They_ were here. They had followed them to Argus, and they advanced like a legion of doom, heralded by a massive Grimm, far larger than anything she had ever seen before.

“Oh my God,” Jaune muttered. “What… what are we gonna do?”

Weiss watched with horror as alien dropships flew in. Mutons, alien mechs, troopers, officers, more Sectoids than she could count, Archons, every single alien brute and monster she could think of was jumping down. The green bolts from Muton plasma rifles and red bursts from alien magrifles bounced and shot out from the city like terrible flares.

“Price!” Ana shouted, her voice emanating from Price’s Scroll. Weiss could hear gunfire echoing from Ana’s side of the feed, distant alien moans in the background. “We have a situation here! Blake and I are pinned down! Heavy alien and Grimm presence!”

“Looks like our plan’s changed,” Tyson said, opening the cover on his MG3’s receiver to check ammo. “What’s plan B?”

“If I may,” a voice said. All eyes turned to the newcomer, a tall, slim man with tanned skin and a gray coat lined with yellow piping, yellow dress shirt and purple vest with matching fingerless gloves and shoes. “I would recommend dying.”

“Who’s this joker?” Tyson asked.

“I don’t know,” Weiss replied.

Insane cackling came from the forest next, and almost like an acrobat entered another man, pale skin and with an insane glint to his eye. He knelt low to the ground, white sleeveless jacket and pants betraying the dirt he had just rolled through.

“Not you again!” Ruby shouted. “Once wasn’t enough??”

The man laughed, his insane chortling echoing across the forest. “I have a singular mission, and I do _not_ fail _anyone!”_

“It’s like his face has ten different personalities,” Freeman muttered, “and they all eat children.”

“Bloody hell,” Price muttered. “As if the aliens weren’t bad enough.”

“You all have one chance,” the man in gray said. “Put down your weapons, and die quietly. Perhaps we can make it quick.”

Looked like the plan now was to fight. Weapons had been drawn almost the second the man in gray had stepped out, but now… now the fight was going to escalate. Weiss took a deep breath, waiting to see who would make the first move. Less than great position. Disadvantage in numbers, if these people were allied with Salem.

Just another day out in Remnant.


	11. Ultraviolence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The battle for Argus begins.

The fight began swiftly, and with a brutal burst of energy.

With a speed that betrayed his posh demeanor, the man in purple sprinted towards cover near a rock, firing a pistol the entire way. This wasn’t any style Weiss was familiar with – he held it at a strange angle, firing not so much at people, but at _all_ of them. The one in white, he leaped off from the ground, began doing a complex series of rolls and tumbles as he maneuvered himself to the center of the group. Next to Weiss, Tyson’s machine gun started spitting out bullets, its horrible echo filling the air above the shouts and call-outs of her team. All she could do was support – try to put gravity glyphs under this maniac, keep him in one place so someone could at least land a blow on him.

Okay, Weiss was wrong. There was _one_ thing cutting over the chaos of their combat.

It was Freeman screaming his head off.

She looked over to her right. Purple had broke out from cover, was throwing more shots out. Price moved to intercept him – he was on a collision course for Weiss. The Dust rounds zipped past Price’s head as Weiss created a glyph to slow down their foe, but it didn’t seem to have much effect. Something else had come out, was deployed by one of them but what was it? In the confusion, she couldn’t track it.

Weiss heard the tell-tale sound of Nora’s hammer smacking into something, or someone. She looked over, spotting White careening into the forest, but quickly regaining his footing as he used his momentum to swing back around. Bullets chewed up the ground as Tyson fired off another burst, heading around to flank. White dodged through the hail of bullets like it was nothing, knocking Freeman over and looming over him, using his metallic tail to stab at Freeman’s chest.

Except it bounced off harmlessly.

“Huh?” he muttered, surprised his attack had failed.

“GET THE FUCK OFF OF ME, YOU FUCKING FREAK!” Freeman shouted grabbing his shotgun and pulling the trigger, only to receive a clicking noise. _“Oh God, I’m out of ammo! Whose job was it to reload?!”_

Within seconds, Nora had rushed over, swinging Magnhilde at him. White dodged it easily, leading Nora to slam it right into Freeman’s chest.

 _ **“Oof,”**_ Freeman groaned. _“I’m not the enemy! Get your head out of the clouds!”_

Weiss’s attention was taken away in an instant as she heard Price cry out in pain. Dust rounds started to fly Weiss’s way as Purple performed a takedown to knock Price out of the fight for a moment. With the flick of his wrist, his weapon transformed. Electricity crackled out of it as he struck Price, another shout of pain emanating from the captain’s mouth. Jaune and Ren had turned their attention away from White, focusing on the fight Price was rapidly losing. Together, the three of them banded together to at least slow him down.

With calm, calculating precision, he first fired a shot at Jaune’s leg, forcing him to stumble and swiftly kicked him out of the way. Ren charged forward, blades in hand, but instead of meeting them edge-first, Purple easily dodged out of the way, grabbing Ren’s arm. He cried out in pain as Purple applied pressure, returning his weapon to its pistol configuration and firing as Weiss.

Under fire, Weiss ducked, dodging the rounds coming her way as Tyson’s machine gun continued to echo. Undeterred, Purple narrowed his eyes, sweeping Ren off his feet and delivering a kick to his gut, knocking the wind out of him. With a smirk, he disappeared. Weiss’s eyes widened in panic. What had happened. Where had he gone?

Insane laughter whipped through the air. Weiss turned around – with Purple gone, she had to focus back on White. Freeman, Nora, Tyson and Ruby had their full attention on him, with Qrow heading over to assist. Like with Purple, it seemed like White knew every move they’d make before they even started to attack, ducking and weaving in between blades, bullets and thrusts as if it was natural. White used all five limbs of his to good effect, punching, kicking, slapping and nearly stinging all of them several times in quick succession.

Weiss watched her teammates back off, give space, perfect opportunity for him. He locked eyes with Freeman, a cruel grin stretching across his face. Freeman stood near the edge of the cliff, maybe White expected to knock him off. “Freeman! Duck!” Weiss shouted, just in time for her to give White a speed glyph that forced him to overshoot his target, careening off the side of the cliff with a shocked look on his face.

“YEAH!” Freeman shouted, standing back up. “Toro, motherfucker! _Splat!”_

“Where’d fuckface go?!” Tyson shouted.

“I don’t know!” Weiss replied.

 _Wait._ What was that? Weiss saw a shimmering, as if the very air was broken. Like running a hand over a sequined dress, Purple reappeared behind Freeman, using his weapon’s secondary form to stun him and knock him out.

Tyson’s machine gun started to roar, only for Purple to dodge the incoming rounds to close the distance with a rapidly approaching Nora and Ruby. Qrow was right behind, having gone to the air as a bird to gain momentum for an impressive, overwhelming strike. Purple either didn’t see it, or didn’t care, deftly blocking shots from Crescent Rose and Nora’s wide swings, pouring Dust rounds into both of them as Weiss did her best to support them with various glyphs. If only she had the space to summon something, that could turn this around.

Unfortunately for them, it looked like Purple had tricks up his sleeve. Copies of the man began to appear, and each one had the full force of his actual strength behind it. Which one was real, and which one was fake? Looked like Tyson had opted to do this the easy way and just spray each one with bullets. Qrow came down hard, managed to get a hit in that Purple actually was surprised at, but just as quickly as he had taken a hit, he was back in the game. Ruby and Qrow tried to coordinate a two-pronged attack, swing at the same time at him. He simply ducked under them, firing shots at Qrow’s legs and elbowing Ruby in the side. Standing up, Purple flicked away an empty magazine, taking the magazine that served as his pistol’s foregrip off and loading it into his weapon.

Weiss had no choice. She couldn’t simply support them any longer, she had to get involved in this fight first-hand. She moved in, helped take the pressure off Ruby as Purple threw shots at Tyson and forced him to retreat for a moment. Purple took notice of this, almost smiled like he wanted her to do this the entire time. As Qrow and Ruby recovered, Purple focused all his attention on Weiss, trading blows with his electrified baton as she turned Myrtenaster into a Dust-infused blunt weapon. Years of fencing were about to pay off.

And yet, it wasn’t enough. Every blow, every parry, he expected, anticipated it even. Even when others approached on a supposed sneak attack, Purple was ready for them, only taking his attention away for a split second to fire a short burst into them or deliver a brutal kick. He was driving Weiss back, towards the edge, forcing her to take a route he wanted, and she was helpless to do anything about it. She could feel herself losing energy. He _knew_ this, a cocky smile on his face as he pushed her back. Another quick burst forced Tyson to take cover, and within a second he was back to assailing Weiss, holding her teetering over the edge with his gun to her head.

“You know,” Purple said, “I almost don’t want to kill you.”

“Then why are you here?” Weiss challenged.

He paused for a moment, looking down on her. “Well, quite honestly, it’s because I’ve been ordered to. Goodbye, Miss Schnee.”

 _“Duck!”_ Nora screamed.

Weiss needed no encouragement. She dove to the ground, watching as Purple was hit full-force by Magnhilde, sending him flying out into the ocean. Around her, the team moaned and groaned as they got back up, recovering from their wounds.

“Okay,” Freeman muttered. “Quiet time has started! So, please use your _indoor voices_ if you need to be a psychotic menace to all that is good!”

Coughing, Price picked his rifle up. “Sound off! All good?”

“I’m good,” Ruby reported.

“Got blood on me, but it ain’t mine,” Tyson called out.

“I’m alright,” Jaune said.

“You know,” Freeman groaned as he stood up, “as much as I’m having a dumpster fire of _fun,_ where the fuck did our ride go?”

“Bloody hell,” Price muttered. “Calavera! Report!”

“We’re fine!” Maria said over Price’s Scroll, landing right next to them. “Picked up Oscar and we got away! Couldn’t let them destroy our transport to Atlas!”

Weiss looked out to Argus, watching the alien fire only grow in intensity alongside _actual_ fire. “They’re burning Argus to the ground! We have to do something about it!”

“My sister…” Jaune said helplessly.

Price waved his arm, gesturing for them to regroup. “We still need to recover Belladonna, Xiao Long and Amari. We need to go on foot to their last known location. I’ll try to ping Amari on our way, but be ready for anything.”

“We can’t even use the airship to get closer?” Jaune asked.

“Calavera, think you can fly that thing and not get us shot down?”

“Flying under hostile fire is my specialty!” Maria said gleefully.

“There’s your answer,” Price said. “Get in, and be on the lookout.”

Perhaps with a bit more urgency than before, they loaded onto the ship, taking off and heading to get at least a little bit closer to Argus before dismounting.

At least, that was the _plan._ The aliens had spread out further than any of them realized, and within mere minutes of taking off, red-tinged rounds flew past the ship’s windows. Maria swayed the ship back and forth, dodging the incoming fire as best as she could. Tyson opened up the side door to attempt to fire back at the aliens, with Price supporting.

Weiss looked out just in time to see a rocket fired from an alien mech scream towards the airship, colliding with the wing and setting an engine on fire.

“Hold on!” Maria shouted.

“We’re going down!” Price confirmed.

Weiss set out gravity glyphs for them, but before it all went black, she wasn’t sure if she had actually managed to activate them or not.

* * *

The roar of Yang’s motorcycle mixed with the popping of Ana’s rifle as Yang sped towards the radio relay. She heard distant Grimm and aliens, but in the confusion she wasn’t sure which was closer. The radar station was in sight – Yang saw Ana and Blake at different levels of it, firing down on a group of aliens. Headcount – ten of them; one officer, six troopers, a Priest, Muton and an Archon. Bizarre alien language filled the air as the officer called out orders, pointing at either Blake or Ana, who exactly Yang couldn’t tell.

Yang put down the kickstand as she screeched to a halt, jumping off Bumblebee and heading to the bottom of the tower for cover. Practically the second she had hit cover, alien fire began heading her way, pinging off the metal she cowered behind.

“Blake!” Yang shouted, looking up for any sign of her friend. “What happened?!”

“What’s it look like?!” she yelled back down. “Where’s everyone else?"

Ana’s rifle fell silent as she changed position, heading down a level to meet up with Blake. “We can focus on it later, we can _not_ sustain this defense.”

Yang dared to peek out from cover, receiving a nice healthy burst of alien rifle fire in exchange for her curiosity. She could hear the Archon bellowing – it must have done its weird ritual thing and taken to the skies. Yang rolled her shoulders back, took a deep breath to prepare herself. Only one way out of here.

“You guys ready to rock?” Yang asked, loading up a full magazine of Dust in her gauntlet.

“I’ll meet you down there,” Ana reported, shoving a new magazine in her rifle. “Go!”

Blake jumped down, and into the fray they went. Archon was in the sky like she had predicted, had lifted its scepter to the heavens to call down whatever divine justice the aliens claimed to have. The Priest knelt down in prayer, using its Psionic amplifier to give some sort of buff to the officer. A long, wispy trail of purple emanated from the officer’s head to the Priest, while the Muton roared and smacked the side of its plasma rifle.

Blake turned and gave a short nod to Yang, which she returned. Ana could deal with the Archon, but Yang and Blake had to tango with the Muton. Yang charged ahead first, dodging rifle fire as she went. The troopers started running for whatever cover they could find, at this point mostly trees. The officer and priest, sharing a mind, headed further away to let the troopers be the first to fall, which left only the Muton standing defiantly against them. Yang wasn’t sure if they ever cared about being in the open.

The Muton roared, swung its bayonet at Yang as she charged in. One, two, three shots from her gauntlet, but it wasn’t about to go down quietly. Before she could roll out of the way, the Muton had grabbed her, beat her with the blunt end of its rifle. Blake came in at this point, swinging Gambol Shroud at its arm only to bounce off harmlessly. Its yellow eyes centered on Blake, tossing Yang away like a wet paper towel as it began to fire. The green-tinged bursts of plasma energy went straight through trees, cutting several of them down almost immediately.

Yang heard the telltale sound of an Archon dying, its half-body falling to the ground a few feet away from her. Where was Ana? Couldn’t look right now. Had to focus on the Muton. Yang rejoined the fight immediately, ignorant to incoming rounds that zipped past her. Blake had gotten her ribbons around the Muton’s legs, knocked it to its back as it tried to regain its footing. With a loud war cry, Yang delivered a killing blow, practically annihilating the Muton from existence. Two down, eight more enemies to go.

An explosion rocked the ground. Yang and Blake both turned to see the relay tower bend unnaturally, starting to fall over. Ana had made it to the bottom, was waving them away from its path. Looked like it would bring it down on at least _one_ alien head. Another familiar noise – yet another alien dropship. A double team of red-painted alien mechs jumped down, joined by a fucking Specter and a pair of stun lancers.

“Fuck,” Yang muttered as the tower crashed down, wiping out one of the alien troopers and taking several trees with it. “We gotta _go!”_

“Go where?!” Blake asked, trading fire with the aliens. “These things are all over us!”

“I don’t know!” Yang shouted. “Anywhere that’s not here!”

Staccato bass booms filled the air as the mechs began to slowly march towards them, firing their massive rifles the entire way. Yang spotted an Ursa incoming. Next to her, Ana slid into cover, ducking as the aliens fired over and past her head.

“I can’t get Price on the Scroll,” she reported. “Aliens may be jamming our transmissions.”

“Wait,” Yang said, “if they’re jamming us, then everyone else might not know what’s going on. We have to go find them!”

Another burst of alien rifle fire. _Alright,_ she thought, _fuck these guys in particular._ Yang loaded up explosive Dust, firing rounds at the alien’s cover and wrecking it, killing at least four troopers outright. Better than nothing. It didn’t do anything to diminish their fire, but this Specter could cause a lot of problems if it got close.

“That thing’s getting closer!” Blake yelled, pointing at the incoming Specter. _Hey, speak of the devil._ It dodged their fire as it got closer, began to cover Yang just like it had Weiss back in Mistral. She tried to fight back, punch her way out, use her Semblance to force it off, do fucking _anything_ , but she just saw her vision go black as the Specter began to overwhelm her. Yang’s body began to feel weightless, like she was in a pool of water.

And then, just as quickly as it had all gone to black, color filled her eyes as Ana and Blake fired alternatively at the aliens and the Specter in front of her. What had happened? Had she been taken over by that thing? Fuck it, it didn’t matter. All she had to do was fight.

“Shift northwest,” Ana commanded. “We need to get closer to the city!”

“Why?” Blake asked. “Why should we draw the aliens there?”

Shoving a new magazine into her rifle, Ana paused before starting to fire back. “It’s not about leading the aliens _anywhere,_ child, it’s grouping back up with the rest of our forces. Price has to know the aliens are here by now, there’s been too many of their ships overhead!”

Yang poked her head out, spotting a hole. “We can move through there!” she said, pointing to the gap.

“Push through!” Ana ordered, firing on the Priest. With a yell, it collapsed, killing the officer alongside it as it knelt down. Yang knew better – the Priest wasn’t actually dead. No fucking way. Yang leaped over the collapsed tower, firing at aliens as she did so. Blake was right behind her, with Ana not far behind. Had to be fast. Had to act quicker than they did. Without an officer to lead them, the troopers fell into a disorganized mess, standing in front of them in a line in an attempt to block their path. Yang came at them like a wrecking ball, shattering the ground and sending them flying.

The pops of Ana’s rifle echoed behind her as the alien’s fire just grew in intensity, giant rounds slamming into the trees.

“Stun lancers closing in!” Ana shouted. Yang and Blake turned around just in time. One stun lancer was on her, the other on Blake, locking the two in a close-quarters fight to the death. Yang blocked the lancer’s swing, flipped him over her while avoiding the electrified baton he tried to flail at her. One shotgun round to the face dealt with him. Blake meanwhile had cut the lancer’s legs, emptying a full mag into him to finish him off. Time to keep going.

The mechs were relentless in their pursuit. Yang wasn’t sure if the Priest was back up. What she was sure of was that the black smoke spiraling from Argus came not from the city’s chimney-topped roofs, but from something far more sinister. As they reached a waterfall, overlooking a small lake of some sort that fed to another river with rock bridge spanning the waterfall’s bottom, they could finally catch their breath.

“This is fucking insane,” Blake muttered, kneeling over. “There’s so many of them. Where do they even get all these aliens _from?”_

“This is like, really bad,” Yang said. “Ana, what are we supposed to _do?”_

Ana sighed, checking ammo in her rifle’s magazine. “All we _can_ do. We need to find Price and the others.”

Gunshots echoed from within Argus, but from the distance Yang couldn’t tell if they were from the rifles of the Atlesian military, or from XCOM. It wasn’t alien, that was for sure. She felt her shoulders drop, just _exhausted_ from the day’s work, and they weren’t even half-done from the looks of it.

“Yang,” Blake said, tapping her shoulder and pointing to the sky. “What is _that?”_

Yang looked up, watching an alien ship drop a massive robot she knew all too well. Alien Sectopod. This day just couldn’t get any fucking worse, could it?

“Come on children,” Ana said. “We need to find the others.”

She sighed as she fell in behind Ana, almost able to relax for a second before the alien mechs caught back up with them and forced them to pick up the pace.

* * *

“Report!” Price shouted in between heavy coughs. Weiss blinked, looking around. She didn’t see much blood. Their airship was ruined, though. Half the wing was gone, shot off by the rocket, but also the rear was missing entirely, and the smell of fuel was invading her nose.

“We all good?” Tyson asked, using his machine gun for support as he stood up.

“I just survived a helicopter crash without a fucking _scratch,”_ Freeman said triumphantly. “I’m more than good, I’m fucking awesome! This just proves it, I’m too badass for the universe to kill!”

Qrow groaned, lifting a loose panel off him. “Yeah, well, guess I’m just cursed to hang around you. You kids alright?”

Ruby, Weiss, Oscar, Jaune, Ren, Pyrrha and Nora all reported as okay, picking themselves out of the various chunks of wreckage they had found themselves in. Weiss saw some ripped clothing, a few light wounds here and there, but apart from that, they all looked fine. Maybe a bit more disheveled in their appearance, but not terribly injured. As they headed away from the steaming wreck of a ship that _was_ their transport, Weiss heard Grimm roars approach. No breaks for them, huh?

“Let’s keep moving,” Price ordered, grabbing his rifle. “If we stay in one place, we’re dead.”

The sound of flames crackled as they headed into a city block, mixing with weapons fire from the Atlesian military. Tyson was on point with Price, while Pyrrha scanned the skies and rooftops for alien units. An earth-shattering thud rocked the ground, and within seconds they saw what had caused it. A Sectopod had been dropped upon Argus.

“Come the fuck _on!”_ Freeman yelled. “This is bullshit!”

“Team,” Price ordered, “cut right. We’re in the middle of this firefight.”

Screams bounced off the tall, narrow buildings as alien fire increased in intensity. All this death, destruction… if the Relic wasn’t already attracting the Grimm, they’d be salivating at a chance to feast upon all this negative energy.

“What are those things?” Ren asked, pointing to a group of orange-clad alien troopers.

“Oh no,” Pyrrha muttered. “Purifiers.”

“What’s that?” Jaune asked.

Tyson obliged him with a reply in the form of opening fire at the so-called Purifiers, one of them exploding almost immediately after being shot. “They’re burning the city down!” he shouted over his machine gun.

As they moved to continue engaging the Purifiers, most of whom had shifted focus to them, Weiss couldn’t help but hear the sound of multiple alien dropships approaching, and then breaking off to return to a nebulous origin point. The aliens were just _pouring_ troops into this city. It didn’t seem like they wanted to destroy. It was as if each act of malevolence had a purpose, a sinister point.

“Captain,” she said, her voice shaky from the realization. “You don’t think they want to occupy Argus, do you?”

“Now why would they –” Price said, before pausing as his eyes grew wide. “Bloody hell, they want to take the base.”

Mechanical warbling broke out, followed by a group of alien mechs bursting through a decorative wall, pointing at them. Pyrrha pointed out a Sectoid on a roof, raising psionic zombies to continue the fight. Tyson rested his machine gun against a mailbox, sending out a hailstorm of bullets and yelling at them to keep going, spread out so a mech’s rocket wouldn’t nail all of them. Rifle shots mixed with Dust weapons fire as they clashed with the mechs, Sectoids on the roof, and a horde of Vipers that had made it to the scene. Ruby and Qrow worked in tandem to hack their way through mechs, eliminating at least that problem temporarily.

Pyrrha’s rifle rang out as she knocked out Sectoids that tried to influence the battle from the roofs, their bodies falling off the slants and tumbling onto the snow-covered ground below. Jaune, Ren and Nora worked on countering the Vipers, with Jaune landing several improbably blows and cutting off tongues that lashed out at them. Price and Tyson moved almost as one, picking up the other’s blind angles and methodically eliminating any enemy unit that came their way.

All seemed well until a veritable flock of Berserkers rushed in, their bizarre alien mouths opening in ways that should have been impossible, their “eyes” if they could even be called that, staring at each one of them and sizing them up as if they were snacks.

“Uh, guys?” Nora asked. “Is it okay to panic now?”

The Berserkers made the first move. They closed the distance, but Ruby, Ren, Nora and Jaune began to move back just as fast, supported by Weiss and glyphs that sped them up. It was as if each hit they took just made them even madder. How had Yang dealt with these again?

Oh wait. Right. She had punched them in the face, and then Alan had taken it out with a bullet to the head.

Pyrrha remembered this well, firing her sniper rifle at the Berserker’s heads. Tyson focused his work on suppressing incoming alien trooper reinforcements, as Price desperately tried to bring Amari up on his Scroll.

“Fuck!” Price eventually shouted, ripping off his torn boonie to reveal a bloodied head. “Aliens are jamming our comms! We’ll make our way to the train station!”

“The _fuck_ is at the train station, Price?!” Tyson yelled out in the midst of a barrel change.

“We need transport _out_ of this city! Argus is lost!”

Just as he said that, Grimm appeared around the corner, a group of Beowolves and Boarbatusks. They headed right for them, charging into attack without even stopping to regard the aliens. Two of the five Berserkers were down, but Weiss now had to focus on the Grimm that were on their way. Pyrrha, Freeman, Tyson and Price shifted their attention and fire to the aliens, leaving the rest to counter the Grimm.

More alien troopers, rushing around a corner one by one. Freeman easily dispatched them with his shotgun.

“Fuck this!” Freeman yelled. “I’m not going around the corner, I’m gonna wait for them to come to me.”

Just as he settled in with his shotgun, Weiss watched a grenade roll to his feet. Looking down, Freeman’s eyes bulged out of their very sockets.

“OH SHIT!” he yelled, running away. “Okay, natural selection! All the dumb ones are dead, so the survivors are a little bit smarter!”

“Price!” Ana shouted over Price’s Scroll. “Where are you?!”

“It’s good to hear your voice, Amari!” Price replied, in between changing mags. “In the commercial sector, where are you?”

“On the east side with the children, we’re making our way to you!”

Weiss lost track of time, just relieved that Blake and Yang were okay. Just as quickly as they came, the Grimm disappeared as they were killed. Weiss was panicked, scared out of her mind, but there was a gritty determination to each move she made, each kill she assisted with. Weapons fire from elsewhere – that sounded like Blake and Yang’s weapons.

Weiss looked to her right as the last Berserker fell, spotting Yang, Blake and Amari heading down their street. No time for reunions – a loud, almost impossibly overwhelming roar consumed the area. The two teams, now reunited to one, headed to the where the quay met the water. _Yup, no breaks in sight here._

There, out on the water stood a massive Grimm, a reptilian-looking thing with gills and a collection of plates protruding from its back.

“This… is a problem,” Weiss declared, sighing. God, she was just so _tired._ Thankfully, not as tired as back on the farm, but tired nonetheless.

Next to her, Blake and Yang collapsed to the ground despondently, while Ren, Nora, Jaune and Pyrrha all leaned against each other. “Can we even _do_ anything against this thing?” Yang asked.

Tyson pointed to the left, shrugging his shoulders. “I don’t know, but maybe _that_ can.”

A massive mech in Atlas colors lumbered out to the enemy Grimm, engaging it with all manner of Dust weapons that came out from its arms and back. With each step both the mech and the monstrous Grimm took, waves crashed upon Argus’s quays, its slow, lumbering swings moving as if in slow-motion. The Grimm soon grew tired of attacking the mech, turning its direction to Argus itself. Weiss felt herself stumbling as the Grimm sucked in air, practically draining the environs of precious oxygen.

A huge fireball spewed forth from its mouth, and even though it flew well above their heads, Weiss could feel the intense heat radiating off of it as it crashed behind them, with the beast beginning to make a move for Argus itself. Its roars were louder than any sound Weiss had ever heard in her life, even after she had thrown her hands to her hears it persisted, sending wave after wave on a collision course to Argus that soaked them.

It was close enough for them to act on now. The Atlesian military continued to pour fire on it, momentarily wondering who RWBY and XCOM were, but the questions could be answered later. The mech had made it closer to them, matching it one for one in blows. Weiss deployed every glyph in her arsenal, alternatively speeding up and slowing down allies, as well as impeding the giant Grimm.

XCOM had taken to forming a defensive perimeter around the two teams, preventing aliens from interrupting them as they worked to take down this massive Grimm. From where she was, Weiss could clearly see Ruby and Qrow making deep cuts in its flesh, as Blake and Yang wrapped themselves around limbs and set to work disabling and disrupting further attacks. Meanwhile, Nora provided explosive support to distract it, while Ren and Jaune set against it like picadores.

And yet, for as hard as they were fighting, for all the Dust they expended, it felt like nothing was helping. One by one, they were picked off and flicked away like annoying gnats rather than fearless Hunters and Huntresses. Even when Ruby unleashed a massive, near-blinding ray of silver from her eyes, the only effect it had was turning the beast to rock for a few moments.

“Get out of here!” Cordovin announced over a loudspeaker. “The Atlesian military will handle this!”

Price dropped an empty magazine, shoving a new one in. “Break off! We can’t hope to win this!”

 _“What?!”_ Jaune asked, panting. “We need to get another airship! We can still get to Atlas!”

“No,” Qrow declared flatly. “We tried it your way, and we _failed.”_

“He’s right, children,” Ana agreed. “They will not fall for our ruse again, especially not with the aliens and Grimm here.”

“Then you can go!” Jaune shouted. “My sister, her family, the people here, I’m not leaving them! We can’t leave them to die!”

“They’ve already been evacuating people! We need to go, _now!”_

“We’re going back to base,” Price said. “End of story!”

The teams regouped, and with aliens pursuing them at every turn, they began to retreat. First to the train station, and then across the landscape of Anima as the train suddenly dropped them off. Weiss felt like she had never been more tired, more exhausted, more _beaten_ in her life. But, at least they weren’t hurt. Her friends were safe. Her _family_ was safe.

In the end, Weiss determined, that was all that mattered.


	12. Trust the Sun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> O'Neill has a difficult conversation with Daniel. Another attack on Mistral has to be countered.

Returning to Mistral had earned them a break, but only a short one. In the intervening days since their trip to and from Argus, the base XCOM was building began to resemble a functional military structure, and not at all the wood-lined walls and framing Tyson recalled it being when he left. He found his room was right next to team RWBY’s, a fact he debated was mere coincidence, or a deliberate move to ensure somebody that was trusted had eyes on them at all times.

But lately, he couldn’t help but realize something was changing. Tyson found it odd at first, shook it off as post-combat nerves. That, and a continuation of the suspicion he had of Belladonna was the only reason he kept looking at her, he reasoned. Nothing else made sense. There was no other rational explanation for why he had been doing the things he had been doing.

But now, after RWBY had been sent out in an attempt to track down Salem’s hideout, he found himself somewhat lost. If Tyson didn’t know any better, he’d say he almost missed seeing her amber eyes narrow when he walked into the room, track him like a hawk. The way she pretended to not be watching him. Even the frigid tone she used when she rolled her eyes, declaring she had somewhere else to be whenever he settled himself in the common areas.

Hell, if he really didn’t know any better, if he had never done this same song and dance before, Tyson would have figured he was going insane. He wrestled with the philosophy of it each night as he went to sleep, endless debates against himself that were never truly ended, just tabled temporarily for the next night.

Tyson began to think he _was_ going crazy after all. RWBY had been gone for all of three days, and nobody else compared to the warmth he got when she was near. It wasn’t rational, was nothing but the confused emotions he had always fought with. So, if that was true, if he wasn’t lying to himself, then why did he desperately want Belladonna back?

He jumped involuntarily as someone tapped on his shoulder. He whipped around to see Amari, balancing a tray of tea in her hands. She said something in Arabic, set the tray down as she took a seat.

“You know I don’t drink that kind of tea, Amari,” he said, folding his arms.

“That syrup you drink is not tea,” Amari replied. “But I am not here to discuss your tea-drinking habits.”

Tyson shrugged his shoulders. “What about, then?”

Amari glanced up at him, stirring her tea softly, the clinking of metal against porcelain being the only noise her side of the table made. Agonizingly slow, she took a sip of tea, carefully resting the cup on her hands. “What do you think you’re doing, child?”

Surprised, Tyson’s eyebrows show up as he tried to figure out what in the world she could mean with this. “Wow, that’s _one_ way to open a conversation,” he said. “Could we perhaps narrow that down?”

“Do you think we are blind, Lieutenant?”

He blinked slowly, staring at Amari. “I don’t think I’m aware of what you’re talking about, ma’am. What are you trying to get at?”

Amari sighed, rolling her eye. “Lieutenant, Price and I have talked. He told me of the confrontation you had with Blake. We all saw you looking her way on our retreat from Argus.”

Immediately, Tyson felt his cheeks heat up as he furrowed his brow, shaking his head. “No, y’all didn’t see that,” he said. “Listen, alright? Belladonna and I had a difference of opinion. I raised my concerns to Price, we _settled_ this. She might still be a threat to us.”

“Why do you think that?” Amari countered, arching an eyebrow.

 _“She broke into my room and stole my property,”_ Tyson said. “What if she’s a Faceless, spying for the aliens? What if she’s not who she says she is?”

“The aliens have never been so blatant before,” she pointed out. “Which does not excuse your actions.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “Even if she’s _not_ a Faceless, she took my property and tried to hide it. She can’t be trusted.”

“You mean the same journal that Price told you to get rid of? The one that I saw you writing in yesterday?”

Tyson paused, blinking rapidly. He thought he could have claimed it a casualty of the crash, something he had never recovered, but… well, the secret was out now, at least with Amari. She stared at him with an immeasurable level of disappointment and displeasure. Shit, now he had gone and pissed Amari off, and he knew that _never_ happened often.

“He knows why I have it,” Tyson finally said, swallowing.

“And he told you to get rid of it. Personally, I don’t care, but orders are _orders,_ Tyson. I know you are well aware of that.”

“Then what do you want out of me, Amari?” Tyson shot back. “Some fucking ridiculous confession about things I’m not doing? Would that make you feel better?”

Amari sighed, setting the cup down on the table and folding her hands on top of one another. “Losing Earth was hard on all of us. All of our friends, all the history, the memories we have… it will all fade, all of it is already half gone. I see you finding _peace_ here, Tyson. I just want you to be able to accept it before something happens.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” he growled, shoving his chair back.

Just as he stood up to walk away, General O’Neill was there, nodding in acknowledgment to Amari. “Glad I caught you,” he said to Tyson. “I need you to come with me to talk to Daniel.”

“Huh?” Tyson asked. “Why do you need me?”

“Well, technically I don’t,” O’Neil said, shrugging. “But I want someone who can shoot close by in case he’s a Faceless.”

Amari’s face twisted in confusion as she too stood up. “What? Why would you think Daniel is a Faceless?”

“Let’s just say I have reason to be suspicious. Come on, let’s go.”

Tyson looked back at Amari, shrugging. Checked his holster – M9 was still in there, like it always ways. Unless they’d made the damn things stronger, one mag should take it down without a problem. O’Neill remained uncharacteristically silent as they headed to Jackson’s room, which was stocked from floor to ceiling with drawings, sketches, symbols that didn’t make sense to Tyson, and all sorts of schematics.

“Daniel,” O’Neill said, cautiously stepped into the room. “You, uh, got a minute?”

“Oh, sure,” Jackson muttered, shuffling papers around and pinning a set to the wall. Lot of alien languages. Studying them, maybe?

O’Neill cleared his throat, cautiously watching Jackson work through his notes. “Do you mind telling me why you didn’t tell _us_ that Salem can create Grimm? Or that she was immortal?”

Jackson paused, pins clattering to the floor. Quietly, Tyson undid the button that prevented his pistol from sliding out of its holster. The very air was still, as if O’Neill had just sucked it out of the room with a vacuum.

“Well,” Jackson said. “You told me you knew about the Grimm.”

 _“_ _You_ didn’t tell _us_ the gods granted you immortality, too.”

Tyson furrowed his brow, glancing over at O’Neill. _What the fuck?_

“I didn’t think you would believe me,” Jackson muttered, almost hesitantly.

O’Neill sighed, shook his head as he stepped further into the room. “You didn’t think _maybe_ that would have been pertinent information, Daniel? That _maybe_ we’d want to know?!”

“You never asked!”

O’Neill’s hollow laugh echoed in the small room, as he looked around incredulously. “How the hell can I ask you about something I don’t know about, Daniel!? Do I look like some kind of mind-reader to you?”

“Well, I thought your arrival on Remnant meant that you knew more about the world!” Jackson countered. “I didn’t think it was an emergency evacuation!”

“When did we _ever_ have that kind of technology, Daniel?! Do you know how much time we could have saved if you had told us what you knew about Salem?”

“I’m hiding from her too!”

O’Neill paused, blinked as he stared at Daniel. “You mean she knows?”

“No,” Jackson replied. “But… I helped Ozma, long ago. That put a target on my back. That’s why when you got to that village, it was abandoned. There hasn’t been anyone who remembers that village for three hundred years.”

“What are you saying, Jackson?” Tyson asked.

“I’m saying when Salem found that I helped Ozma, she murdered the entire village as punishment. That’s why I’ve been hiding. That’s why I helped all of you. I thought you had figured out how to destroy her, because I sure can’t.”

“Well, at least we’re all back on the same half-written page,” O’Neill commented.

He was never one to let things like this get to him, but Tyson couldn’t help but feel his shoulders drop as the gravity of what Jackson was saying fell on him. Here was someone _else_ who was immortal, who had been working just as long as Ozpincushion, and he had no idea what to do. He was _broken._ O’Neill loudly sighed, shook his head as he walked away and announced he was going back to the command room. As for himself, Tyson opted to leave Jackson’s room, heading anywhere but there.

Tyson retreated to the confines of his room, thankfully free of Freeman for once. Shuyi was out as well, might have been on patrol or something similar. O’Deorain’s bed still mocked him as he fell on his bunk, a permanent reminder than once again her enigmatic intentions had left XCOM in the dark. If only something as simple as some familiar music had made it over here.

For now, all he had was the visions that danced in his head every time he closed his eyes. Increasingly, he found that the visions were not what he used to have, the careful disassembly procedure of a rifle or machine gun, but instead were of Belladonna. Rather than the myriad of ways Shuyi’s AKS-74U could jam if she got it caught in the mud, Belladonna’s elegant combat style haunted him. It was as if she was a featured dancer on tour, and he had front row tickets to every show.

Tyson would kill a man for a good distraction right about now.

* * *

Four days had passed since RWBY had headed out to find Salem. Other than limited probing incursions, the aliens and Grimm had been silent. It made Tyson uneasy. To further complicate matters, in their last action against the Grimm, Freeman had gotten himself wounded. Drama queen he was, he demanded his squad carry him back to the waiting transport, and though his wounds warranted attention, they weren’t half as serious as he made them out to be. Tyson wondered what Ludwig would have to say about the Grimm if he were here.

Regardless, the wounds concerned Tygan enough that he retained Freeman in the infirmary, which necessitated transferring control of his squad to Amari and Tyson for the time being. So far, he appreciated how quickly they reacted to orders. Their action in Argus had proven that, but further combat in and around Mistral cemented the idea in his head. Tyson especially liked how quick on the draw Nikos was on taking out high priority targets. Made his job a hell of a lot easier.

Their transport shuddered as it came to a halt, nearly knocked Arc off his feet and breaking Tyson out of his thoughts. Large-scale alien attack, another terror mission. They had targeted a highly populated area of Mistral. The glittering lights of the city shined brightly against the night sky as the doors slid open, allowing the squad to hop down and make contact with the ground. Even from here, Tyson could hear the sound of alien weapons fire, punctuated by echoing screams. Flames licked the edge of the skyline, as the occasional missed shot zipped down an alleyway.

“Fan out,” Tyson ordered, scanning for potential contacts. On his left, Nikos and Amari began climbing a building to provide overwatch for them. The gunfire and screams inched ever closer. It looked like both XCOM and the aliens were rapidly approaching one another, straight on a collision course. Just by the weight, he knew he had a full belt loaded. Had two more weighing down his left-side ammo bag. Should be plenty, or perhaps not quite enough in case the aliens deployed heavier troops.

“In position,” Nikos reported.

“We’re seeing a full squad just ahead of you,” Amari reported.

Tyson crept around a corner, peeking out just enough to eye the incoming column. Viper, two Sectoids, and a stun lancer. Standard terror mission deployment. He leaned back into cover and grabbed his radio. “Captain, you’ve got better eyes than I do. How’s it look from up there?”

“In addition to that squad, two platoons. Maybe more we can’t see from up here. Get to work, Pyrrha and I can cover you.”

Tyson nodded, briefly acknowledging her report. “Alright, Valkyrie, let’s ruin their day. Get some HE on those fuckers. Ren, Arc, keep moving and watch your backs.”

Valkyrie obliged him by gleefully launching four grenades at the aliens, effectively removing the Viper from the equation. The remaining Sectoids and stun lancer – scratch that, it was two stun lancers – took turns screeching at them and running for cover. Tyson supported his MG3 on an overturned shopkeeper’s display, sending burst after burst downrange. His bursts were accompanied by shots from Amari and Nikos’s rifles and the occasional shots from Ren.

“What do you want me to do?!” Arc shouted, crouching near a fountain.

Tyson furrowed his brow at him, gesturing to the Sectoids that had taken up residence just opposite of his position, getting ready to raise psionic zombies from the dead civilians. “Go kill them! I don’t fucking care!”

Ren and Arc exchanged words he couldn’t hear. Looked like they had a plan of action going. Whatever worked. Valkyrie stepped off to join then while Tyson continued to engage the stun lancers. Looked like they were heading for Ren and Arc. However, they had spotted them and began to engage. Good – Tyson could shift his fire elsewhere. Their melee would make short work of those guys.

Burst of fire forced his head down. Where was _that_ gunner? He dared to look up, got another burst that zipped past his head. Nikos reported she saw the contact – one Muton, approaching with lethal intent. One shot later, he was down for the count. Alright, _now_ he could get back to work. He got back into position just in time to see Ren and Arc slicing apart Sectoids with ease. Time to move up. The Muton had to come from somewhere, and he assumed, judging from its corpse sprawled out in the street, that it came from deeper inside the city.

The squad regrouped and began to advance, heading down a smooth paved road flanked by tall buildings and gas-lit streetlights. A flurry of alien fire and green plasma shots burst out from their left flank, prompting a wide swing left. Amari reported that the path they were taking meant they would not be covered by sniper support, and this prompted a move to another building.

Another squad. Two Mutons, one of these Berserkers, and a handful of regular troopers guided by a single officer. They looked unaware of their advance, with the troopers tossing bodies into a pile presumably for burning. A Purifier stood by, waiting for them to finish. Tyson never gave them the chance, working with Valkyrie to break up their formations with machine gun and grenade launcher fire. Even without the new armor, it was taking copious amounts of ammunition to take down each trooper, heating Tyson’s barrel to dangerous levels. Ren and Arc advanced under Tyson’s covering fire, when he could spare the rounds and prevent his barrel from warping from the heat.

“Changing barrel!” Tyson shouted, alerting them that his weapon was falling silent as he initiated barrel changing procedure. The smoking hot barrel clattered to the ground, almost rolled towards him until he quickly kicked it away with his foot. Could go back and retrieve it later. Now was the time to focus on keeping rounds flying. Tyson smacked the barrel change hinge closed, now ready to go back to firing. Looked like Arc was having trouble with the Berserker.

One burst out, then another two for good measure as the creature stumbled backwards, a deep moan bouncing off the buildings along the way. The Purifier exploded as Valkyrie’s shots landed close to it, consuming the other Muton in flames. Reinforcements from the right. Another officer, flanked by a handful of stun lancers and a Priest. Leading the charge was a man who was clearly not alien. He was clad in black clothing, sword in his hand, and a white mask on his face covering his eyes.

“What’s _he_ doing here?!” Valkyrie asked.

“Who the fuck is he?” Tyson shouted as he raced up to join them.

Retreating back into cover, Ren reloaded his weapons. “Adam Taurus, leader of the White Fang or what’s left of it. Terrorists.”

“Amari,” Tyson said, grabbing his radio and checking his ammo belt. “Got a possible enemy VIP here. Orders?”

“Already spotted,” she replied. “The Commander wants us to bring him in alive.”

He glanced back, watching Taurus silently communicating with the aliens. This fella looked like he meant business. “You _sure_ about that?”

“Very.”

Shaking his head, Tyson readjusted his grip on his weapon, resuming fire as Valkyrie, Ren and Arc reengaged the aliens. Looked like these were the last remnants of the alien attack force. Nikos reported spotting transports picking up enemy troops. With a belt and a half remaining, Tyson opted to use the rest of his loaded belt to suppress the two officers, keeping their heads down long enough for Amari and Nikos to score headshots on them. Without much other direction, the remaining alien troopers lost cohesion, trying to decide between throwing grenades or keep in cover. Taurus tried to keep them in line and direct their fire at XCOM, but the language barrier proved too much to overcome for them.

With his allies rapidly falling by either Tyson’s MG3, shots from sniper support, or just demolished by Ren, Arc and Valkyrie, Taurus stood tall in the middle of the plaza. It was like he was unfazed by the chaos around him and the bullets flying. Was he _challenging_ them to fight him?

“You’re done, fuckface,” Tyson yelled out, leveling his weapon at him. “Surrender.”

“The Grimm will find this place,” he countered. “We’ve succeeded here!”

Tyson rolled his eyes. “Christ, we don’t have time for this. Come on, we’re cuffing this guy.”

“He’s dangerous,” Ren advised. “We should disarm him.”

“If he resists, we put him in the fucking ground,” Tyson replied. “No killing. Commander wants him alive.”

Shrugging, Ren, Arc and Valkyrie followed him over to Taurus. Fella was saying something, what about Tyson didn’t really listen. Surprisingly, he dropped his sword, allowing Tyson to take ownership of it. Valkyrie took an almost immeasurable amount of joy in handcuffing the guy. Amari ordered Arc and Nikos to stay behind, just in case this clown was right about the Grimm showing up. The rest of them would go back to HQ to properly secure this guy.

“It won’t be long then,” Taurus said as he was moved to the transport.

 _“What_ won’t be long,” Tyson asked. “Time to your interrogation or the waterboarding session?”

“Until I’m reunited with her. Blake. I heard you have her in your little headquarters.”

Immediately, Tyson looked at Amari, who wore the same shocked expression as Valkyrie and Ren. How the hell did this fucker know who Blake was?

* * *

This clown had done nothing but talk about how much he “loved” Blake ever since he realized who he was in the company of. Ren and Valkyrie were both surprised to learn he even _knew_ Blake, much was was in love with her. If Amari was affected by the news, beyond initial shock she didn’t show it. She had already radioed ahead, gotten Price to set up an interrogation room with the requisite materials to perform some less-than-legal questioning. Tyson kept his MG3 aimed in his general direction, pulling guard duty for the time being. He _really_ wished this VIP wasn’t one of those that the Commander wanted to live. This idiot would have been better off being wasted alongside the other aliens.

His Scroll buzzed. Tyson tasked Valkyrie and Ren with guarding Taurus while he checked it, pulling it out of his left pocket to see what the alert was. Looked like Blake got the short straw in contacting Tyson. _Shit._ This wasn’t good. Sighing, he excused himself to answer her call, heading to an isolated corner of the cargo hold.

“Yeah?” he said as he answered.

“Are you on your way back?” Blake asked.

Even though he knew she couldn’t see him, he shrugged. “Eh, we’re about thirty mikes out, I reckon.”

“Thirty _what?”_ she asked. Right. He forgot she wasn’t always familiar with his lingo.

“Minutes,” Tyson explained.

“Oh. I heard the aliens attacked a city. How many did we get to safety?”

He looked up and to the right, trying to retrieve a number. Hard to tell without a baseline to go off of. “Enough. Aliens killed… maybe a hundred? Not sure.”

“We should have been quicker,” she admonished. He could hear the anger-laced sadness in her voice.

“Well, happens sometimes.”

“It _shouldn’t.”_

“Yeah, I know,” Tyson muttered. “You guys on your way back, or what?”

“We’re already back,” she explained. “I think we got here not long after you left.”

Perhaps against his better judgment, Tyson glanced back at Taurus. Looked like he was still going on about “his love” to an unenthusiastic audience. Like somebody opening a flood valve, the memories of watching Blake go into his room to steal his stuff came back to him. Something was off, he could feel it. How did this Adam know who was with XCOM? Why had he _just so happened_ to show up here and now?

What was Belladonna really planning?

“Hey, Belladonna,” he said. “Two things.”

“Yeah?”

“One, I need you to meet us when we land.”

She paused. “Uh… why?”

“Because of number two – I need to talk to you.”

“Again, why?”

“It’s nothing bad, I promise. I just need to talk to you.”

She sighed, exasperated. “Fine, I guess. Do you want to talk at the landing zone, or?”

“Alone,” he said, hanging up. All he needed was the confirmation.

That done, he headed back to relieve Ren and Valkyrie of guard duty, freeing them to do whatever they wished. A few seconds later, Amari slid next to him, unholstering her pistol and lazily aiming it at Taurus.

“Who was that?” Amari asked, in _Russian_ of all things. He didn’t know Amari spoke Russian.

“Nobody important,” he replied, switching to Russian as well.

She hummed, barely nodding her head. “Must have been _somebody_ for you to leave your post.”

He glanced at her, cocking an eyebrow. How the hell did she always _do_ this? If she wasn’t a world-class sniper, Amari would make the galaxy’s best interrogator. Something about her just always made people give up information without even realizing it. He sighed, looking around to make sure nobody was watching.

“It was Belladonna,” he confessed, keeping his voice low.

Several agonizing seconds later, Amari nodded, holstering her pistol and sliding away.

How the hell had she gotten him to _do_ that?

* * *

Killip and Shuyi were waiting for them at the LZ, taking Taurus into custody as they arrived. As promised, Blake was waiting nearby. Killip and Shuyi’s path took them right by her on their way to take Taurus to the prisoner cells, whereupon Taurus shouted the entire way he’d soon be free of “their prisons” and would be reunited with her once more. Tyson headed off to the equipment lockers, aiming to get his field jacket off and stow his MG3. No need to lug it around base.

Right as he hit the lockers and began putting his jacket up, he heard quick, angry footsteps. Yep, that was Blake alright.

“What the _hell_ was that?” she demanded, turning to face him with her arms crossed and brow furrowed.

“Some terrorist, I think,” Tyson said.

“Hilarious,” Blake said. “Don’t play dumb, _Lieutenant.”_

“Listen, can we _not_ do this here?” Tyson asked, hanging up his field jacket.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Blake said sarcastically. “Are you not comfortable?”

Tyson shook his head. Fuck, if she wanted to be obtuse, she could be fucking obtuse. “How’s about we meet up at the bar?”

“The bar’s full of people,” she countered.

“Fine, then somewhere where people can’t eavesdrop, alright?”

 _“_ _That’s_ what you’re worried about?” Blake asked, confused. _“Eavesdropping?”_

He sighed, leaning an arm against the locker as he closed the door. Turning his head to actually look at her, he noted she was _definitely_ pissed off. Maybe this was all a mistake. Who the fuck knew, he sure didn’t. “Listen, let me just… get some water and we can talk. Find somewhere quiet and let me know where, alright?”

 _“You’re_ the one that asked to do this,” she reminded him, groaning as she threw her hands up and walked away. He ignored her, stowing his MG3 away in the armory for safekeeping. Next stop was the bar to get a bottle of water. Not cold, but not hot either, but it was better than nothing. Scroll buzzed again – Blake had let him know that she was in the kitchen, waiting for him.

_Moment of truth._ She was either a spy for Taurus, or completely innocent. Her reaction would dictate how the rest of this conversation would go. M9 was still in its holster. Shouldn’t need more than one mag for her if it came to that.

He walked into the kitchen to find a very angry Blake standing in the middle of a prep area, frowning. Tyson took up a corner of the counter, leaning against it and unscrewing the cap of his water, taking a sip.

“Before you say anything,” she began. “I want to know why Adam’s here.”

“Alright,” he said in between sips of good, refreshing water. “Taurus is the reason we’re here.”

She tilted her head, furrowing her brow. “That’s _not_ an answer.”

“We had contact with Taurus on the last mission. He was leading an alien strike force. We got orders to bring him in,” he explained. “Keep in mind, I disagreed with those orders.”

“Then why the hell was he paraded past me?” Blake demanded. “Why did you ask me to wait for you to land?”

“Amari thinks we can use his love for you as leverage, get him to talk.”

Rolling her eyes, Blake groaned. “Thanks for that,” she said, sarcasm dripping from her voice.

“Look, I’m not thrilled about it either, alright?”

Within seconds of finishing that sentence, Blake’s face was awash with confusion. She stared at him with narrowed eyes, trying to figure out what he was saying. “What are you _talking_ about?”

“Listen, Blake,” he said. “I’ve never been one to dance around things, even _before_ the aliens came.”

“When you start making sense,” Blake said, “I’m listening.”

Tyson shook his head, throwing a hand up in frustration. “Then I guess I’ll come right out and say it. I like you, Blake.”

She blinked several times, no doubt trying to figure out whether this was some kind of joke or if he was serious. For his part, Tyson kept taking drinks of water. Might need it if she got hostile. At this point, he was pretty sure she wasn’t a spy.

“Was this your plan this whole time,” she asked, holding a finger up and circling it around, “to lure me in here and do… whatever the hell _this_ is?”

“No,” Tyson said, shaking his head. “Tell you the truth, I wasn’t even thinking of saying anything until about two minutes ago.”

“What the _hell?!”_ she shouted. “Is this a prank? Some kind of fucking _joke?_ Like, you’re kidding, right? You don’t _actually_ think this, do you?”

He frowned, shrugging. “I’m not telling you this because I’m trying to pull some kind of sick joke, Blake.”

The realization hit her – he could tell since her amber eyes grew wide, and she swallowed like something was lodged in her throat. _“You’re_ using my first name,” she said, pointing an accusatory finger at him.

“Yup,” he said, taking another sip of water.

Blake buried her face in her hands, probably wanted to scream but didn’t for whatever reason. When she pulled her hands away, the flat palms turned to rage-filled fists that shook as she spoke. “What the hell was all this with Adam then?” she said quietly. “I don’t understand it.”

“I heard him on the way back,” Tyson explained. “Clown kept going on and on about how he loved you. Figured it might have run both ways.”

“I _don’t_ love him anymore,” she said, ice-cold in tone.

“Then I guess it doesn’t matter,” he said, shrugging.

Her fists relaxed, palms facing her as she shrugged. “That’s not an invitation for you to swoop in like a knight in shining armor!” Blake yelled.

“Will you let me finish before you go jumping to conclusions?”

She sighed, closing her eyes and shaking her head as she pinched the bridge of her nose. Silence reigned for several minutes before she finally opened her eyes again, nodding to let him elaborate.

“However you stand with Adam,” Tyson said. “Love him, don’t love him, I don’t care. I wanted you to know how I felt because I hoped for once in my fucking life something was going right. I didn’t expect anything from this, and I sure as hell got it. Do whatever you want with this info.”

He turned to leave, but Blake was fast, stepped in his way to block him from leaving. “You’re _not_ walking away from this,” she growled. “You don’t get to do something like this and just expect to walk away.”

“You’re right,” he said. “But, I’m walking away because I need to go report to Price. Unless of course, _you_ want to tell him why I’m late?”

Blake stared him down, almost as if she was daring him to test her. Narrowing her eyes, she took a step away, folding her arms and watching him head out the door. Tyson headed out, halfway through the door before he stopped on his own accord, turning to look back at her. Yup, still pissed off.

“One more thing,” he said. “If you don’t feel the same way, fine. I can bury these feelings. Done it before. Just let me know.”

She said nothing in response, staring daggers in him and frowning. Tyson shrugged. Guess she wasn’t interested in talking anymore.

“See you around, Belladonna,” he said, heading to the command room.


	13. Colors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Blake tries to sort her feelings after Tyson's confession.

God damn him.

God damn Tyson, and everything he stood for.

Blake stood in the kitchen, alternating between clenching her fists and counting down from ten to calm herself down, with neither act actually _helping_ much. Why had he decided to do this to her? Why parade Adam past her, then confess all these stupid fucking emotions like they weren’t in the middle of not just a war, but a practically unwinnable one for their entire _survival?_ Like he hadn’t heard the same story Jinn told her, that everything they were dong was for nothing? Why did Tyson even _think_ these things about her?

Why the fuck couldn’t Blake decide what she was feeling right now?

She sighed, began to pace as if that’d help the anger, confusion and sheer shock go away. Blake clutched her head, rubbing her temples when she stopped to lean on the counter. Nothing about this made sense. It was a prank, she reasoned. He was fucking around with her, some kind of deranged test. She wouldn’t have considered it beneath him. But none of these answers satisfied her. It just made her more and more depressed and pissed off.

Blake heard the door open and looked up, half-expecting to see Tyson there with a smug grin on his face as if to say “Surprise, it was a prank”. But, no, it was Yang. _Goddammit._ Of all the people… well, no, maybe having Weiss come in would be worse. Yang smiled at first, waved, but the grin faded fast once she realized something was wrong.

“You okay, Blake?” she asked, concern etched on her face.

“I…” Blake said, closing her eyes and swallowing. “I don’t know.”

Yang frowned. “Is it… because of Adam?”

“No,” she replied, opening her eyes.

Yang furrowed her brow, eyes darting back and forth across the floor as she tried to figure out a possible answer. “Okay, what did Tyson do this time?”

She sighed, closed her eyes again as if that’d make the words come out easier. Maybe it’d be better if she just shrugged it off again, lied to Yang like she had all those months ago. It was easy then, but… something about it wasn’t easy _now._ Blake couldn’t tell if it was hesitation, fear, or just the knowledge that if she tried to bullshit her, Yang would call her out in a second.

“He told me he has feelings for me,” Blake finally confessed.

Yang stared back, her jaw open. Slowly, she shut it and started to slowly nod. “So… that’s a joke, right?”

“I really don’t know.”

Yang wet her lips, arched an eyebrow for a split second. “Well… what do _you_ feel?”

“I have no fucking idea,” she replied, feeling her shoulders fall.

“Alright then,” Yang said, jerking her head to the door and grabbing Blake’s hand. “Let’s get out of here, alright?”

* * *

Before she knew it, Blake had been led back into the room she shared with Yang, Weiss and Ruby, the latter two of whom were conspicuously absent. Like a machine, Blake sat on her bed, trying to process how she had so monumentally lost track of time and space so as to end up here. Maybe it was a good thing Weiss and Ruby weren’t here. She wasn’t much in the mood for Ruby’s eternal, undying optimism, or Weiss’s unrelenting judgment.

Yang calmly sat by Blake’s side as the war in her head raged on, a slog between whatever forces were at play that clouded her thoughts and made grounding herself in reality damn near impossible. Throughout it all, Yang waited patiently, a kind, non-judgmental open ear.

“I don’t get it,” Blake finally said shakily. “I just want to punch him.”

“I kinda do too,” Yang said, smirking. “But, come on. What’s going through your head?”

“I don’t know. I keep thinking it’s a prank or something.”

Yang leaned back, shrugging. “What’s the worst if it _is?”_

“I look like an idiot?” Blake retorted, frowning. “You don’t think that looks bad?”

“OK, think about this then. Whats the worst that can happen if he’s not joking around?”

Blake paused, avoiding Yang’s gaze. “I… I don’t know if I want to say it.”

“I think you already know what you’re thinking,” Yang said, shrugging. “If I know anything about you, Blake, it’s that when you know you want something, you go for it.”

“I don’t want _anything,”_ Blake said. “I don’t even know the first thing about him. I mean, how can I have a relationship with someone if -” She paused, realizing what had just come out of her mouth.

Next to her, Yang smirked. “Go find out then. You’ve always been good at getting information out of people. If you need help knocking heads around, you know where to find me.”

Yang exited the room, leaving Blake alone with her thoughts. The haze had somewhat subsided, to give way to a strange sense of calm. But it was not a comforting calm, ironically enough. Blake sat in her room for what felt like hours, disconnected from the outside world. Had it actually been hours, or was it only a few minutes? She didn’t know, and didn’t want to check.

In the end, Yang was right about one thing. Blake knew what she wanted, and always did everything to get it. Looking back, it only made sense. Getting into Beacon. Finding peace and comfort in her team. For a short while, happiness with Yang. She sighed, putting her face in her hands again as if the darkness would help.

She resolved she would have to find out more, but she wouldn’t be able to make her investigations quiet if she talked to the wrong people. Blake ran through the list of options she had. Price seemed close, and so he was struck off as an option. Best to avoid Freeman unless she was truly desperate. Members of Price’s squad likewise couldn’t be trusted. Pyrrha… Blake wasn’t sure if Pyrrha even knew anything. Killip was insane through and through. The members of Commander Okorie’s inner circle, the engineer, scientist, and other high officers weren’t viable options. That left only Captain Ana Amari, Hannah Shuyi, and Micheal Dudley.

Alright, time to get off the bed and _do_ something. Blake sighed, steeling herself for what could possibly be either the best or worst decision possible. She grabbed the dossier Weiss had kept on him, a relic from first contact. Something had to give eventually, right? Even as she stepped out the door, Blake couldn’t help but flip between thinking a relationship with Tyson was the right move, or the worst luck she’d had since meeting Adam.

She wandered the halls of the base, aiming to go for the lounge where she knew Ana would likely be this time of day. Tyson’s dossier didn’t offer much beyond the most basic of information. Bradford had written down that Tyson was an excellent soldier, something called a US Army Ranger. She made a note to see if she could discreetly ask someone what this was later. The rest of the mauve and white folder didn’t offer much, beyond notes that Tyson was an excellent soldier. Bradford’s notes looked more like an achievement list – expert with rifles, pistols, and machine guns, with detailed proficiency in small unit tactics and demolitions, among countless other terms that didn’t mean anything to Blake.

No notes on his personality, or background beyond military service. Well, so far _this_ was pointless. Blake sighed, tucking the dossier under her arm. She had hoped it would give her _something_ to go on. Maybe Ana would have more answers. Blake found Ana in the lounge, a cup of tea in her hands and reading through a well-leafed through book that had text she didn’t recognize. As she got closer, Ana looked up, closing the book.

_“Amil ‘ayh?”_ Ana said, raising her cup.

“Good evening, Captain,” Blake said, nodding as she took a seat opposite of her. Already, a cup of tea was sliding towards her. How did Ana _always_ have tea ready to go?

“You only say my rank if you need something,” Ana said slyly. “What is it, child?”

“I need to know more about Tyson.”

Ana smiled knowingly, setting her teacup down. “Well, I don’t know much about him, but I’ll try to help however I can. What would you like to know?”

“I guess just… anything I can’t already read off this,” Blake said, gesturing to the dossier. “It’s pretty hard to figure out who he is.”

“He’s a secretive man, I’m not surprised. I don’t think I’ve had a truly _personal_ conversation with him in years.”

“What did you talk about, last time you _did?”_

Ana shrugged. “My memory’s not what it used to be, you know. I remember he once talked about somebody named Lee very often. It sounded like he missed them.”

“Does he still talk about them? Who’s Lee?”

“I don’t know, child,” Ana said, slowly shaking her head. “Man, woman, it’s all up in the air. Anything else?”

Blake sighed, working through this information in her head. Potential girlfriend? Wife? Brother? Old friend? Whoever they were, they had to be dead. Even if somebody named Lee had made it over – which, as far as she knew, they hadn’t – then he wouldn’t have talked like he missed them. It didn’t make sense. “Did he ever talk about anything else?”

Ana let out of a huff of air, staring off into the distance. “Only that he would make the aliens pay for what they did. I don’t know if he meant invading Earth or the genocide.”

At least she had something to go off of now. That was… possibly better? Worse? Blake wasn’t sure. She thanked Ana for the tea – having completely forgotten to actually drink some of it, but Ana didn’t seem to mind – and headed off to see if she could find Hannah and Micheal. They would probably know something.

Blake found the two in the common area, thankfully with nobody else in the room. Looked like they were unwinding. Weapons were by their sides, one of them must have just gotten off guard duty. Micheal had his arm draped across the mauve couch he and Hannah were sitting on, his hand hanging freely and just barely touching Hannah’s shoulder, covered by a short-sleeved gray shirt. He spotted Blake first, and both of them gave her confused looks as she sat down opposite of them.

“Uh, d’ya mind?” Micheal asked, arching his eyebrow. “We kinda got ourselves a private conversation ‘ere.”

“Hold on, Mike,” Hannah said, raising a hand. “It’s alright. You’re Blake, right? One of Pyrrha’s friends?”

 _Pyrrha,_ wow. That… she hadn’t really considered herself Pyrrha’s _friend_ for a long time. Maybe once when they had first met at Beacon? But that was a lifetime ago, practically a different era. Blake blinked, before nodding. “Uh, yeah. Sure. Can I ask you guys to keep what we talk about quiet for me?”

“Keep _what_ quiet?” Micheal asked, narrowing his eyes. “’Cause we been _hella_ quiet-”

“Mike, let’s hear her out, okay?”

“I need to know about Tyson. What do you guys know?”

Micheal’s eyebrows jumped up and down, while Hannah’s eyes darted back and forth as if she was visualizing everything she knew about the man in front of her. Micheal looked to Hannah, shrugging.

“How’s about you staht by telling us what you wanna know?” Micheal said.

“All I know is he’s a Ranger, whatever _that_ is, knows his weapons, and used to talk about somebody named Lee. Can you two help me out or not?”

Hannah sighed, shaking her head. “I don’t know, I didn’t really talk to him much. What about you, Mike?”

Micheal rolled his shoulders back, readjusting the brown cap on his head. “Yeah, I talked to him a few times. Dude always reminded you he was a Ranger, like that even mattahs when the fucking Army got wiped out.”

“I meant anything _else,”_ Blake said.

“Hell, I dunno. Always got super pissed off whenever we were in Georgia.”

“I thought he mentioned something about family from there once,” Hannah said.

“Did he? I don’t remember that.”

“What’s special about Georgia?” Blake asked. “Other than the family thing.”

“I think he lived there,” Hannah said. “He at least trained there, right?”

“Yeah. Reckon his hometown got the ADVENT special treatment?” Micheal said.

Blake tiled her head. “What’s the ADVENT special treatment?”

“Could be a lot of things,” Hannah explained. “Burnt down, bulldozed, purged, forcibly evacuated… lot of cities were destroyed.”

Blake sighed, nodding as she thanked the two and headed out. She had at least _some_ optimism going into this, but it was just dead end after dead end. Blake hadn’t found anything other than a few scattered tidbits, hobbled together from the shaky memories of people with more pressing matters on their minds than whatever someone who was likely to end up dead the next day said in passing.

No leads. Nowhere to go to. Stupid, stupid, stupid idea. Why had she ever embarked on this pointless mission anyway? She headed back through the gray-painted walls, trying to ignore Killip ranting and raving to Qrow about something, his blue helmet rattling back and forth on his head like a loose lid as he talked. Black marks scuffed the perpetually filthy concrete floor, and Blake found herself lost inside the base. This place had never felt this big before, but she couldn’t help but feel impossibly small inside it.

She looked around. Blake had managed to make her way into the infirmary, surrounded not just by gray walls, but stark white examining tables, beds for the wounded to recover on, and blue-tinged screens that displayed x-rays of internal alien structures. Unaware of her presence was Dr. Tygan, his bald head casting off enough light as to nearly blind her of she looked at it wrong. His labcoat was covered in orange blood, a recent alien specimen lying on an operating table as Freeman snored in the corner, fast asleep.

Blake sighed, shook her head. This wasn’t where she was meant to go. She ducked her head low, made a quick escape as if a Schnee Dust Company guard had caught her on company property. Blake found herself circling back to their rooms, a seemingly endless series of brown doors with only numbers assigned to them as a means of keeping track of where they rested their heads at night. Her room with Ruby, Weiss and Yang was number 4, while Tyson’s room with Freeman and Hannah, previously also hosting Moira, was next to theirs at 5.

Well, shit. Maybe the best source of information was the man himself. She knocked on the door to his room, waited a few seconds for some kind of response.

“Door’s open,” Tyson said.

Blake took a deep breath, heading into the room to see Tyson sitting on his bed, a dark blue mat rolled out on top of the beige covers. Gray-colored pieces of metal, parts to his machine gun, covered the mat. Light yellow liquid covered various parts, pooled in the bottom of an off-white plastic bottle that he kept leaning against one of his black boots, polished and shiny despite the chaos they had been in all this time. As usual, his combat pants had the strange mix of green, brown and black, a t-shirt clinging to his torso.

“So, I’ve been thinking,” Blake announced as she sat on the bed opposite of him. Tyson didn’t even bother to look up, meticulously cleaning his weapon.

“Alright,” he said.

“I need to know more about you before I go making any decisions,” she said. “I went asking around, and nobody knows _anything_ about you.”

Tyson nodded. “Sounds about right.”

“All anyone can agree on is that you’re a Ranger, whatever _that_ means.”

At this, Tyson stopped, glaring at her with his brown eyes. _“That,”_ he growled, “is the best goddamn outfit I ever served with. Show some fucking respect.”

Blake arched an eyebrow, taken aback by the sudden hostility. “Calm down. I didn’t know, okay?”

“Calm down?” he repeated. “You really gonna say _that_ to me? Is that some kind of a joke, Belladonna?”

“I’m just trying to figure out who you are,” Blake said. What the hell was _with_ him?

Tyson shrugged, tapping something on his machine gun shut as he began to put it back together. “I don’t know what you want to know,” he said. “Give me something.”

“Oh my God,” she said, exasperated. “How hard is it to tell me something about yourself?”

He sighed, having finished reassembling his weapon and leaning it on a light brown side table. “I’ve been fighting for a long, _long_ time, Belladonna. I don’t remember much about being a civilian anymore. I can tell you all about Lee here, but I don’t know what to tell you about _me.”_

Blake blinked, tilting her head to the side. “You named your weapon Lee?”

“Yeah,” he said cautiously. “That a problem?”

“N-no,” she stammered. “I… well, Ana was telling me about how you used to talk about somebody named Lee a lot. I thought you said it didn’t have a name?”

“Didn’t used to. Does not. What’s your point?”

Blake sighed. “I… I don’t know. Were you talking about a weapon that whole time?”

He paused, staring at her. After what felt like forever, he began… laughing. It was a loud, hearty belly laugh, one she had never heard coming from him before. Quite frankly, it kind of scared Blake.

“No,” he finally said, chuckling even now. “I haven’t been talking about a weapon this entire time. I’m not telling you about that.”

“Why not?” Blake asked, furrowing her brow. “It seems pretty mundane to me.”

“Because you’re telling me you haven’t made a decision yet, and now you want your own little abridged history? No. I can’t guarantee that whatever I say won’t make it back to someone I don’t want hearing about my life.”

Blake scoffed, shaking her head. “Do you really think I’d _do_ that?”

“I dunno,” he said, shrugging. “Point is, you don’t get to know about that. What you see is what you get, Belladonna.”

She blinked, before sighing and rolling her eyes. God, he was so fucking obstinate. Well, if he wanted to be this way, then fine by her. He could sit here and brood in his little corner, tend to his stupid weapon if he wanted to. Blake didn’t fucking care anymore. “Fine then,” she said, getting up and heading out of Tyson’s room. “If you don’t want to tell me anything, then I guess that’s that.”

Blake should have expected this. Who would ever be stupid enough to fall in love with her, anyway? Why had she deluded herself into thinking this was ever a good idea? Good thing these stupid walls were as dreary and depressed as her mood was, having been sent to the bottom of the sea in a single conversation. It was getting late. May as well just go to bed, maybe that would make things easier. Blake collapsed in her room, where Yang, Ruby and Weiss were already fast asleep. What she wouldn’t give to go back to a simpler time, when everything made sense.

* * *

Staccato burst. Another one. Two more, then a long one to cap it off.

That was machine gun fire.

Where was she?

Forest. Dark, ominous. Rain everywhere, cascading off the trees. The sound of the machine gun echoed horribly in the night.

Blake ran for the sound, hoping to track the source. She reached a clearing, finding Tyson. He was fighting something, some _one._ But who? Where were they?

Laughter. Not happy; sinister. Moira. Orbs everywhere, bouncing off the trees and ground. Strange language she didn’t understand. Instinct – get weapon. Where was it? Gambol Shroud was missing.

Okay. Assess. Tyson fighting. Moira in play. No weapon. Where’s everyone else?

_“Géill do mo thoil!”_

Moira’s strange energy beam. Tyson hit. Blake wasn’t. Moira’s gone now, with her ray.

Tyson _on fire._

At Beacon, the night of the fall. Fire everywhere. Adam.

_Adam._

He’s talking, but no sound. Tyson’s clothes burn, making him scream. _“Why?”_ he asks, demands almost. _“Why won’t you help me?”_

Ruby. Weiss. Yang. Jaune. Ren. Nora. Pyrrha. All flailing in front of her, flames licking at them, like people possessed. _“Why won’t you help us?”_ they ask.

Tyson grabs her shoulders, staring at her as features melt away.

_“Do you feel like a hero yet?”_


	14. Coalescence

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira is spotted.

Blake shot upright, panting heavily. She looked around in a panic, touching anything and everything in an attempt to ground herself in reality, confirm that what she was experiencing was real. So far, that seemed to be the case. She looked over to Ruby and Weiss’s bunk – daylight streamed in from the window, a curious yellow tint falling upon their white and red covers. Okay, probably a good sign. _Let’s slow down the breathing first._ Blake began to take long, deliberate breaths.

At least, she did until Yang dropped down from the top bunk, spooking her and revving her heart back into overdrive.

“Hey Blake,” Yang said, concerned. “You, like, screamed when you woke up. Everything good?”

Blake slowed her breathing down again, clutching her chest as she tried to get a grip. “Bad dream,” she said shakily. “I was back at Beacon.”

Yang paused, reached a hand over and rubbed Blake’s shoulder. “I’m sorry. Those are always rough. Wanna talk about it?”

She looked up, still unsure whether she was actually back to reality or not. “You were all on fire.”

Yang’s eyebrows show up. “Say what now?”

“You, Ruby, Weiss, Jaune, all of you just… on _fire.”_

Her friend, hell, at this point, best friend, ex-lover and confidant all in one, said nothing, only kneeling on the bed and wrapping her arms around Blake. Having her here was really, _really_ helping. It made Blake wonder how she had ever survived the world without Yang nearby. She should get some tea later. That would help.

“So, not to pry, but…” Yang said as she broke off from the embrace.

“Why do I feel like you’re going to pry anyway?”

“I heard you and Tyson talking to each other last night.”

“Oh God,” Blake moaned. “Not this.”

Yang sighed, taking a few steps back. “Look, I don’t care what you do in your own time, alright? I didn’t _want_ to hear it, but I did anyway. You’re lucky Ruby and Weiss could sleep through a dump truck driving through a Dust plant.”

Blake sighed, staring at the floor as she swung her legs over the side of her bed. “You probably think I’m an idiot, don’t you?”

“Why the hell would I think _that?”_

“Because I’m thinking of getting involved with this idiot, and I don’t even know if either of us are going to survive this war?”

“Okay, look,” Yang said, slipping on her brown jacket. “If Weiss and I can survive Earth without Aura, we can survive _this._ They’re on _our_ turf now.”

“Inspirational,” Blake muttered. “But not an answer.”

Yang threw her arms up, exasperated. “I can’t judge you for doing what you think is right, Blake.”

Blake sighed again, burying her head in her hands. God, this sucked. So much was just utterly _fucked_ now, and she had nobody to blame but herself. Who had cursed her to be in this position?

“Hey,” Yang said, halfway out the door. “You know you can always talk to me about stuff, right? Like… just because… you know.”

“Yeah,” she replied, looking up and nodding. “I know.”

“Are you _sure?_ Because it feels like sometimes you forget.”

Blake stared at the makeshift closet in between Yang and the door, hoping that it would give her answers. It didn’t. “Yeah, I… I don’t know. I just have to figure some things out.”

Yang stood at the door for far longer than Blake would have liked, intensely staring at her. “Okay,” she finally said. “Let me know if I can help, okay?”

Blake stoically listened to the door close, letting out a deep breath as she got up and got dressed for the day. The yellow-tinted sky had faded to just regular sunlight, with no hints of deviation on the horizon. Her Scroll buzzed. It was a message from Bradford. She opened it, curious as to the contents.

Moira had been spotted.

* * *

Echo 1-2’s travels took them all across Anima, from the shores of the sea to massive mountains, with seemingly endless forests in between. If their mission wasn’t so grim – killing Moira – the scene was almost serene to Yang. But, as lush forests gave way to rolling hills and open plains, Yang saw threats everywhere. Shadows leaped out at her, every noise prompted a second look, giving her whiplash as she scanned, assessed, and scanned again. She really, _really_ missed the days when she could walk through the woods and not worry about getting shot.

At least this time she was with her team. That made things easier. Though, so far it was the only positive thing about this whole expedition. Yang had no delusions that Moira would come without a fight, and fully intended on putting her down if push came to shove. She looked around, looking at her team as they, Amari and Tyson marched on. They had been on the road for at least two days by now, and it was beginning to show. They hadn’t often stopped at towns along the way, only sustaining themselves off of whatever food and water they kept in their packs.

Her eyes settled on Blake, who was doing almost the exact thing she was. Scanning, scanning and more scanning. But, every so often, she could see Blake pause over Tyson, if only for a moment, but it was a lingering moment. Yang wasn’t blind – Blake had practically done the same thing with her who knows how many times.

“Hey, Blake,” Yang said, drawing her attention over. Tyson and Ana looked back, but only for a split second. Blake fell out of formation, matching pace with Yang in the rear.

“What’s up?” she asked, checking trees for Grimm.

Yang looked around, making sure Ruby and Weiss weren’t listening in. Still, Yang kept her voice low. “I see your eyes tracking him, Blake. You’re not good at hiding.”

Blake kept quiet, but Yang could see her ears twitching. “I’ve been pretty good at it so far.”

“You can talk to me if you want,” Yang replied. “I mean, just because we didn’t work-”

“I already told you I’m not ready for anything,” Blake shot back. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Yang put a hand to her forehead, sighing. “Look, I don’t know what you think you’re seeing, alright? I’m just being cautious.”

Yang furrowed her brow. “Cautious about _what?”_

Blake looked around, cautiously eyeing the next hill crest. “I can’t talk about it right now,” she said.

Tyson suddenly did a 180, walking backwards and holding up a fist. “Halt!” Yang looked around. Open field, nothing out of the ordinary. Why were they stopping? “Take 10,” he announced. “Get some food in you, drink water, whatever.”

They headed off the road, taking seats on anything that looked solid enough. Tyson had already pulled out a savory pastry he had made before leaving, freely sharing with anyone who wanted one. Yang had already started drinking water, scanning the horizon as Blake and Ruby broke bread. All was peaceful as they took their break. She hoped it would stay this way.

Far too soon, the ten minutes was over, and they were back on the road. The path took them to a dense forest, thick with trees and the fading sounds of wildlife. Something was out there, but was it aliens, Grimm or Moira? The death of noise began to make Yang feel uneasy, chirping birds replaced by the dull sound of rain beginning to fall. Suddenly, she was aware of the rain bouncing off the canopy above her. Right now, the rain wasn’t too bad, but if it kept up? They’d be positively soaked. Like the coming rain, Yang could feel the pressure increasing, the ever-present send of overwhelming dread consuming her.

She glanced over at Weiss, could see her discomfort in every step. Similar visual checks on Ruby and Blake confirmed they were under the same spell of apprehensiveness. Tyson was practically muttering to himself in German as they marched, his gun held in low ready. Amari’s eye bounced off each tree, each gap in the rows, looking for _something._

Moira’s spine-chilling laugh bounced and echoed off the trees. Reacting all at once, each member of Echo faced a different direction as the very setting obfuscated where Moira was coming from. Yang heard the tell-tale click of Tyson and Ana turning off their weapon safeties, going hot.

“We know you’re out there, O’Deorain!” Tyson shouted.

“You can come peacefully,” Ana pleaded. _As if that’d work with her._

Yang spotted Moira fading into existence on her right, sitting peacefully on a fallen tree branch. She was nearly unrecognizable, save for her instantly-recognizable hair. Her arm was visibly decaying, black fingertips mixing with graying skin. It was as if her very fingers were trying to wrestle themselves free of her palm, extending far beyond what they had been before. Her blue eye was now enshrouded by a steel plate in some strange oblong shape, but what purpose did it even serve?

She smirked, looking down on them as she regarded Echo with mixed disregard and amusement. “Oh, how _little_ you’ve all changed,” she mocked. It was as if she was sizing each one of them up. As she cast her gaze upon Ruby, her smile dropped, pointing a single necrotic digit at her. _“You._ I’ve been ordered to kill you.”

“W-what?” Ruby asked, stammering. “Why?”

“Isn’t it obvious?” Moira countered, her smirk returning in force.

“If it was obvious,” Tyson said, “then we wouldn’t be standing here _discussing_ it, now would we?”

“Ever the aggressive one. Not even a little curious about where I went?”

“Hold on,” Ana said, gesturing for them to hold their fire. “Moira, what do you think you’re _doing?_ Do you think this will help anything?”

“Are you fucking _nuts?!”_ Yang shouted, clenching her fists. “She just threatened _my family!_ I’m going to fucking kill her!”

Moira’s grin faded as she stood up, steepling her fingers. “Salem’s goals align with my own. I don’t expect _you_ to understand, Amari. Never could see the bigger picture. Are we going to continue talking, or will you be attempting to bring me in?”

Tyson raised his machine gun, aiming it at Moira. “Last chance, O’Deorain,” he challenged. “Come peacefully.”

The air hung still as rain began to pour down, bypassing the canopy and buffeting them. Moira hardly regarded the rain, tilting her nose up so as to look down on them.

“No.”

Yang had just been _waiting_ for her to reject the ultimatum. Ana fell back, aiming to hold with Ruby and Weiss in order to screen Moira. Tyson’s machine gun started opening up with a hellish burst aimed at Moira, while Blake and Yang charged forward to meet her in close quarters combat. By the time they had reached her, Moira was gone. Her laugh punctured the air, changing direction with the passing second. Moira reappeared between the six of them, a demonic grin affixed to her face as she extended her necrotic hand towards Ruby. From that hand, Yang watched a sickening ray of purple energy creep towards Ruby, moving faster than she could comprehend.

Ruby’s screams of pain became apparent first as the ray attached itself to her. Blinded by rage, Yang felt a blood-curdling yell emanate from the deepest confines of her very soul as she charged Moira. The bitch was too focused on taking cruel pleasure out of torturing Ruby, didn’t see or hear her coming like a fucking freight train. Just before her fist made contact, Moira disappeared. Yang tumbled over, the momentum forcing her to roll along the wet ground.

She looked back up to see Moira had managed to pin Blake to the ground. Weiss and Ruby had scattered, breaking off to separate paths. Bullets from Tyson and Ana’s weapons filled the air, but it didn’t even seem to phase Moira.

Moira cackled, her ray digging into Blake’s skin as she writhed and screamed. “An evolutionary dead end,” she said. “This will improve your condition.”

Yang felt the red enter her eyes, launching into another charge as she blitzed Moira again. Once more, the bitch taunted her by fading out just before Yang could punch that smug fucking face of hers. Yang heard Ruby cry out in pain again. More of her fucking orbs flying around, but the woman herself was nowhere to be seen.

Just as she started to scan the trees again, Yang spotted Moira right behind Ruby, still using her ray. Christ, why the fuck weren’t Tyson and Ana able to _do_ something? Couldn’t either of them fucking shoot her? Weiss had started summoning glyphs, already on the same wavelength as Yang. _Third time’s the fucking charm,_ Yang thought. Moira looked up just in time to see Yang heading for her. She had to admit, there was more than a little bit of joy in seeing Moira’s face twist in horror as she brought her fist into full contact with it.

Centering herself after throwing the punch, Yang watched Moira careen across the forest, taking more than a few trees with her. Behind her, Ruby was being attended to by Weiss. Yang glanced back – alright, good, Ruby was fine. Blake, Tyson and Ana were heading to Moira, following the path she had blazed after being sent across the forest. Again, Moira’s cackling filled the air as she staggered out of the destruction, the pile of broken trees and piled-up dirt.

Moira had propped herself up against a tree, dribbling a yellow orb that had small tendrils leeching onto her. “Biology’s habits are hard to break,” she said, cracking a smile. “I had wanted to just kill the girl and watch the rest of you suffer, but -”

Whatever she had planned to say next was cut off as Blake wrapped Gambol Shroud’s ribbons around her ankles, yanking hard and dragging Moira towards the group. Once she was close enough, Weiss pinned Moira to the ground with a glyph laden with gravity Dust. Tyson stomped his boot on Moira’s left shoulder, aiming his MG3 at her while Ana leveled her pistol.

Yang walked over, feeling the heat of her anger boiling over. Moira wanted to hurt her family? Yang would hurt her seven times _worse._ “She’s too dangerous to let live,” Yang said.

“We have our orders,” Ana reminded them.

“You heard the Commander. We _also_ have orders to put Moira down if she’s a threat,” Tyson chimed in.

Cackling, Moira shook her head, testing her bonds. “Are you honestly so delusional as to believe you can kill me? Don’t you think I predicted such a scenario?”

A dark orb shot up from Moira’s hands, forcing them to break off to avoid being hit by the orb’s tendrils as it reached out, licking them with twinges of pain. Yang jumped back, looking up in time to see Moira had escaped her confinement. Before she could even pull up a hand, Moira knocked Yang to her knees, holding her in a chokehold. She could feel Moira’s bizarre ray breaking against her Aura.

“Tell me how it feels,” Moira cooed, whispering in Yang’s ear, “as I kill you.”

Her Aura was becoming almost critically damaged now. Nobody else had recovered. The pain was unbearable, far more painful than she had ever felt before, and involuntarily she screamed. Through the pain, she realized Moira had blocked her from using her arm, but not the prosthetic attached to it. Yang maneuvered her arm around, detaching her prosthetic. Using it like an extension, she used it and the pain Moira had built up in her to charge up her Semblance to again send Moira flying, this time into a far sturdier tree.

Breathing heavily, Yang put her arm back in place. Her real arm was twinging, and she rolled her sleeve up, or at least whatever was left of it. Moira’s ray had cut through her very clothing, turning it into nothing more than ashes to reveal burnt flesh underneath. She looked up, distracted by Moira coughing. That bitch was on her hands and knees, struggling to get up as blood trickled out of her mouth. Yang got back on her feet, marching over to Moira, half-conscious of Ana calling out for her.

As Yang stopped in front of Moira, the defeated woman looked up at her, bloodstained teeth showing through as her demonic grin persisted. The plate around her eye was broken, revealing skin that looked like it had been shattered like a pane of glass. “I’m not dead _yet,”_ she muttered, struggling to stand.

“You better stay down,” Yang said.

Moira laughed, every chortle flicking blood through the air, the insane look in her eyes only growing more and more intense as she gazed at each member of Echo. Was she planning something? Probably. Yang felt her fists clench, the anger rising to a breaking point. _Just try something,_ she silently dared her. _Come on._ Moira smirked. What was her game?

_“Surrender to my will!”_ she shouted, throwing her necrotic hand out.

This was the same beam that she had used to kill the prototypical Avatar. The purple and yellow strands of pure psionic energy hit Yang first, knocking her to the ground. As she rolled to avoid taking another hit from it – shit, her Aura had barely recovered, she could _feel_ her chest starting to burn – Yang heard the Tyson, Ana, Blake, Ruby, Weiss, all of them screaming in pain. Weak, she struggled to get up, lifting her head up to assess the situation.

Moira had disappeared again. She did not taunt Echo, nor could Yang see her. If she was hiding, she was doing a really fucking good job of it. But…Yang just _knew._ She didn’t know what it was, but something inside of her was screaming out at Yang with all its might, telling her Moira was gone.

“Fuck,” Yang muttered. “Fuck fuck FUCK FUCK **FUUUUUUUUUUUUUUCK!”** She pounded the ground, practically breaking the soil itself in her anger. She had a perfect fucking opportunity, should _never_ have let Moira get the upper hand on her. More than anything, she was pissed off to high hell that Moira had been able to hurt them, hurt _all_ of them, and get away.

Yang picked herself up off the ground, wincing as the burns on her arm and chest rubbed against her clothes. Tyson and Ana had both lost sleeves, the former having dropped his machine gun entirely to strip off his field jacket as if it were on fire. Blake didn’t appear too badly hurt, all things considered. She groaned in pain, wincing as her hands passed over what looked like bad burns. Weiss appeared weak, nursing her arm with Myrtenaster hanging low. As her eyes passed over Ruby, her jaw dropped, and she could feel tears welling up in her eyes.

Ruby was laying on the ground, not moving.

* * *

Blake tried her best to ignore the burning sensation on her arms as she ran. Upon seeing Ruby wounded, Tyson had immediately picked her up as Ana radioed the base for a transport. The report was gloomy on her end – Moira had evaded them, and even inflicted casualties to boot. Where were they even going? Did it matter? Blake couldn’t help but fear that Moira was watching from the shadows, waiting for them to stop so she could kill them once and for all. It was like living under Adam’s shadow again, fearful of another attack.

They approached another clearing, and just as quickly as it had come, the rain faded away. The sun just barely peeked out from heavy cloud cover, providing at least something hopeful in this increasingly bleak situation. The transport touched down, the doors sliding open to reveal Price and his squad, on watch for hostile contacts as Tyson loaded Ruby in. Ignoring the pain was starting to become hard, each movement like a stabbing pain all over her arms and chest where Moira’s ray had touched her. The only thing Blake had to worry about was making sure Ruby was safe.

Right now, she was looking far from it.

Tyson gingerly placed Ruby on the floor of the transport, as if he was afraid he’d break her, moving out of the way to allow Blake, Yang and Weiss to zealously guard her as if their lives depended on it. Given the circumstances, maybe it _did._ Yang practically shoved people out of her way to get to Ruby, kneeling down next to her sister. All they could do was hope. The burning was just getting worse with every second. It felt like her very bones had been seared by the hottest thing she could imagine. Maybe Tygan had something to help.

The ride back to base was a blur. She heard Tyson and Ana briefing Price on what had happened, but the words were confusing, lost in the haze Blake had found herself in. As they landed on the transport pad, Tygan was ready and waiting with a handful of assistants, volunteers from Mistral that wanted to help out. Blake was only partially conscious of Yang screaming at Tygan to do something, to save Ruby.

Now that her senses were coming back to her and the adrenaline rush from combat was fading, Blake could actually pause and look around. Weiss had tears in her eyes, standing in front of the infirmary doors in shock. Tyson and Ana leaned against the walls, both wincing in pain. Blake suddenly felt a wetness on her face. Was it blood? No, just tears, an involuntary reaction to seeing her best friend and team leader in such critical condition. Tygan had begun setting up machinery, drawing a curtain around Ruby’s bed as he ordered his assistants to begin examining the rest of Echo.

All at once, Blake was overwhelmed with fatigue, allowing a doctor to move her onto a bed. Sitting down felt nice. Predictably, Yang stood defiant, shouting that she wasn’t about to leave Ruby’s side. Across from her, Weiss stared straight ahead in a thousand-yard stare, her gaze unblinking. Tyson and Ana joined them inside, making the infirmary far too cramped and full of people.

After all was said and done, Qrow wandered in just as the assistants had left, looking them over.

“So,” he said. “What happened out there?”

“We went after Moira,” Yang said flatly.

“With what she did? That’s pretty dangerous.”

“We can handle ourselves,” Blake said weakly.

“You sure?” he countered. “Looks like she did a number on all of you.”

Blake looked up and saw Tygan beginning to walk around with a clipboard in his hands. He nodded to briefly acknowledge Qrow, before clearing his throat. “Well, just as I suspected, unfortunately. Moira’s psionic abilities have only grown since her time on the _Avenger.”_

“What’s that mean?” Blake asked.

“Moira is able to physically embody decay and regeneration, both with orbs she summons and her plasma ray,” Tygan explained. “By channeling her psionic abilities, she is able to use her knowledge of genetics to either break down genetic structures or reinforce the body’s natural regenerative properties.”

Yang huffed, shaking her head. “So, what, these fucking burns are permanent?”

“No,” Tygan said. “We were well aware of Moira’s inherent danger, combined with the potential for accidental genetic manipulation. With her assistance, we created a serum that could undo any accidental harm she caused.”

“I bet the people who walked into the clinics think she ‘accidentally’ harmed them, too,” Yang muttered bitterly.

“Regardless, the good news is that you’ll be back to your normal selves within the week,” Tygan said. “The downside is that you will all have to report for daily injections, to ensure your body recovers properly.”

“What about Ruby?” Blake asked.

Tygan sighed, readjusting his glasses. “I’m afraid Miss Rose was the most affected by Moira’s plasma ray. I fear it has only grown exponentially in lethality, and I have no way of knowing at this time how it affected her. I will have to closely monitor her and run additional tests.”

“So, you don’t _know,_ then,” Qrow said, unimpressed.

“At the moment, no. But, I have full confidence that we will be able to restore Miss Rose’s condition and get her back to fighting in due time.”

Blake leaned back on the bed, sighing. She thought that maybe just _once_ something would go her way.

* * *

Moira threw open the massive door to Salem’s base, still weak from the battle with the child and her friends. Even with her restorative orbs aiding her on the journey back, the pain was overwhelming, almost ruinous. She coughed up blood, spotting the green-haired one standing near the door. Shocked, the child looked Moira over.

“W-what happened to you?” she said shakily.

“Get me Watts,” she ordered, liming to her room. “And do be quick about it.”

The girl made herself scarce as Moira headed into her office, intending to restore herself further. But, her orbs could only do so much. She needed Watts and his drones, an actual _doctor,_ and unfortunately Watts was the best they had here. Moira collapsed in her chair, setting forth several regenerative orbs, bouncing them around her. Relief washed over her as they began to aid her, restoring her strength.

Watts came in, a small army of machines behind him, medical protocol droids of his own design. There was fear in his eyes – he must have come back from the Argus mission sooner than expected. Moira had heard their trek had failed.

“Good God, woman,” Watts muttered, disgust wrought on his face. “What happened to you?”

“I need healing,” she said flatly. “I can’t do it alone.”

Sighing, Watts began examining her as the medical droids worked in conjunction with her orbs. “You know,” he said in between examining her, “these sorts of wounds would kill most people.”

“Even with your Aura?” Moira replied.

“Indeed,” he said. “Aura is a tool, but it cannot stop everything.”

Slowly, Moira could feel her wounds fading and healing, assisted by Watt’s capable hands and his robots. It was at this moment that Salem and Hazel decided to pay her a visit, watching as she recovered from the battle.

“I see you did not kill the silver-eyed girl,” Salem said stoically.

“There was a flaw in my approach,” Moira answered. “A new methodology is required.”

Salem refused to blink, unmoving as she stared Moira down. “I’m disappointed in you. Here I thought you would accomplish this task in short order.”

“I will allow _none_ to stand in the way of progress,” she said, determined to show Salem she can – and _would_ – kill Ruby Rose.

Watts finished with his task, standing tall as he recalled the drones. Moira stood up, stretching to give her newly repaired muscles a proper exercise.

“My strength returns,” she announced. “Is there anyone else who wishes to gawk?”

“Hmm,” Watts said. “I hope whatever ‘new methodology’ you decide upon will lead to real action.”

“You doubt my abilities?” Moira asked, tilting her head and frowning.

“I doubt your _results,”_ Watts countered.

“Petty squabbles will get us nowhere,” Hazel said, squaring up his shoulders. “Moira, perhaps I should join you next time.”

“Killing Rose is _my_ mission,” she reminded him. “I don’t require help.”

“Are you sure?” Watts asked. “It looks like they beat you without a problem.”

Moira narrowed her eyes. “Their arrogance is their undoing. I will unmake them.”

“Funny,” Hazel said. “Looks to me the only one who had any arrogance was _you.”_

Through this conversation, Salem stood stoically, her eyes slowly panning from one to another as each one of them spoke. Just as Watts and Hazel were to leave, she put a hand on Watts shoulder, stopping him from progressing. “Speaking of failure…” she said. Watts gulped, clearly fearful for his life.

With a mere flick of her wrist, Salem snapped Watts’ neck, his head wrenching itself to an unnatural angle as his machines carried his body away.

“I want to remind you all that failure will not be tolerated. Moira, either come back next time with the girl dead, or don’t come back at all.”

Having made her point, Salem left the room, practically gliding as she left. Moira and Hazel bowed as she left, neither one willing to incite her wrath today. Yet, she was sure Salem would never kill her. Watts was expendable, had failed too often. Moira… Moira was too valuable to her, she reasoned. She had too much information and knowledge for Salem to simply discard.

“Bit of advance,” Hazel said when he was sure Salem was out of earshot. “You need to manage your expectations better.”

Moira waved her necrotic hand at him, hoping to dismiss him. She had a wealth of data to analyze. She turned to her notebook, once again taking a seat so she could furiously record everything she had learned. First of all, she had underestimated the strength of Xiao Long and her friends here on Remnant. Secondly, she had played her hand too early. They knew she had defected, and after today it was clear they were no longer interested in talking. Well, if XCOM wanted to kill her, she invited them to try. Nothing would stand in the way of progress.

Moira’s notes began to resemble less organized thoughts, and more scribbles of a madwoman – a charge she had vehemently denied in the past – as she scrawled bit after bit, each thought put on paper as quickly as it entered her brain. She drew diagrams, theoretical models, charts, sketches of Rose’s personal weapon, did calculus of all things, all in a pursuit to explain and rationalize how she had so severely miscalculated her mission. In the end, there was only one explanation.

She had misjudged Rose’s abilities, and the abilities of her little team, because she had been misled and given false information. Salem had told her defeating Rose would be easy, that killing her would end the threat XCOM posed to Salem’s inner circle and their goals. Rose was the lynchpin, Salem argued, and without her, Ozpin’s plans to stop Salem would fall apart like a house of cards. After that, all of humanity would falter just as it had before.

The conclusion was less than ideal. Xiao Long’s psionic powers were potent on Earth, but just as Remnant had increased Moira’s own abilities, so too had Xiao Long proven to be stronger than she anticipated. It was like holding a candle to a raging wildfire, and Xiao Long had shown that side of herself in this battle. Schnee’s powers likewise were far more powerful than on Earth. The raven-haired one likely held secrets of her own, but there was a certain emotional weakness that Moira had caught the barest glimpses of. She could exploit this in future conflicts.

Like a bolt of lightning, inspiration struck her. Xiao Long was the key to this problem. She had a deeply personal grudge against Moira, one that had been festering ever since their time on the _Avenger,_ and that deep-seated grudge had forced her to abandon her teammates solely to kill _her._ A devilish smile cracked Moira’s face. _Perfect._ Exploiting this girl’s intense hatred for her was how Moira would gain the upper hand to kill Rose. If she could bait Xiao Long into fighting Moira alone, that would remove one element. Removing Amari and Holzmann would be simple as well, and that just left her other two friends.

Moira steepled her fingers as she sat in the darkness. Her new methodology had been decided upon – all she had to do was ensure the proper elements were in place to make sure it succeeded.


	15. Red

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For Tyson and Blake, confessions work both ways.

Paradoxically, the days passed by slowly, and with a speed Blake had never encountered before. It was like each day dragged on, but in an instant it was over before it had ever truly began. The shots started to become a mere routine, just another thing she got used to. With strict orders handed down by Doctor Tygan, Echo was effectively chained to the base, watching others head out in their stead to counter alien attacks and large groups of Grimm that threatened nearby settlements.

Of course, being relegated to the base meant they were typically first choice to pull night guard duty. Like the shots, it became routine. Tyson typically took first watch, while Blake tended to take over for him until dawn. It left her dead-tired and cut off from socializing at breakfast, but there was a sense of tranquility that always settled over her over the night. Night watch always went slowly, but at least it was something to do. At this point, Blake would give anything to go back out, hunt down Moira and Salem again. She could feel Yang and Weiss feeling the same way, a hunger that couldn’t be quelled until they were declared clear. Even Ruby, who had just recovered from her wounds, was eager to rejoin the fight.

Blake climbed the ladder to the guard watch balcony, her hand seeking purchase on the rough, textured floor. Weren’t they going to smooth this out? Maybe that was a project for another day. As she swung her legs up to stand on the balcony, Tyson glanced over to her, nodding.

“Amari will relieve you at 0800 hours,” he said, taking apart the assembly he had been resting his machine gun on. “Same as usual.”

“Alright,” Blake said, passing by him to look out at the darkened forests of Anima. “Do you know if Adam’s given anything up?”

Tyson shook his head, the sound of something metal clattering against the floor. “Nah. Dude’s keeping quiet. He was real gung-ho about being around here until we got back.”

_That’s weird,_ Blake thought. It wasn’t like Adam to be quiet, especially if he thought he had some kind of advantage over people. She wasn’t sure how, but Blake had a feeling that he was planning something. Tyson departed not long after, heading to his room with his machine gun and the apparatus clanging behind him. All Blake had now were her own thoughts and the wind that whistled in between the trees.

The night sky was nearly pitch-black, perhaps more in a deep blue as Remnant’s broken moon reflected light down to the ground. Blake could barely see the green trees just beyond the clearing, stared at the stars that glistened in the night. The cool air felt good against her skin, passing over her like a wave on Menagerie’s beaches.

_Home._ She hadn’t been home in a long time. Sure, she had briefly been there while she was running away from Yang, her friends, but going home felt more like going back to square one. Heading off to Beacon was supposed to be a fresh start for her, a way to escape the memories and scars of the past. So why was Blake cursed to relive those memories constantly? It felt like every corner she turned, there was _something_ that brought every bad decision and emotional wound back to the forefront of her mind.

Blake sighed, shaking her head as if it’d knock away the troubling thoughts that nibbled at her. Couldn’t get too distracted – that object in the dark might have been a Grimm, or an alien crouching down in preparation to fire at her. Like usual, she didn’t see anything. Some days, she wondered if the aliens actually existed, or were just terrifying new forms of Grimm that Salem had conjured up.

As the time ticked on, her thoughts morphed to nothingness, and then back to Tyson. She realized that she had no idea what to make of him anymore. It seemed like for every moment that he was an unrelenting douchebag, he had a few moments where he was pleasant. Sure, it had taken a lot of guts to just confess what he felt, but Blake wasn’t entirely convinced it wasn’t still part of a trick.

And yet… she couldn’t ignore the flutter in her chest every time she thought of him, the heat that hit her cheeks whenever he passed his gaze over her. Try as she might, the irresistible urge to either punch him or kiss him was overwhelming and impossible to shrug off as mere caution. Blake felt her eyes well up, but not for fear of Ruby’s condition, but fear that all too soon, someone – be it Yang, Tyson, or any number of her friends – would perish while fighting in this war.

What she couldn’t figure out was why she was so fucking bent out of shape over the idea that, out of anyone she knew, Tyson dying was worst of all. Abandoning her duty, Blake leaned against the railing, covering her face with a hand as she tried to reconcile where the hell this sudden rush of emotion was coming from. She hadn’t decided _anything,_ dammit, so why the fuck was she reacting like she’d spent years with this idiot? End of watch couldn’t come fast enough. Where the hell was Ana? She looked at her Scroll, checking the time. Not even two hours into her watch. She groaned, shutting her eyes as if that’d make all this go away. These feelings belonged in a zoo, not out here written on her face.

Blake wrestled with the confusing thoughts, haze-filled emotions, and arguments with herself until finally, Ana arrived to relieve her. She clutched her rifle’s sling in her hand, keeping it taut against her as she neared Blake, a warm smile on her face.

“Time for me to take over, child,” Ana announced, though once she saw the pain on Blake’s face, her demeanor changed immediately. “What’s wrong?”

“I…” Blake muttered, feeling even more helpless and alone than usual. “I don’t really want to talk about it.”

Ana stared her down with her eye, almost as if she was scanning Blake for signs of deceit and deception. Slowly, she nodded, quietly sighing. “Alright, child,” Ana said. “Go get some sleep.”

She nodded, allowing Ana to take her position, walked away to take the ladder down. Heading into the base didn’t make her feel much better. She saw Yang stepping out of their room, stretching. Must have just woken up. Well, it wasn’t like she could catch her another time – who knew when the next alien attack would come. Blake practically sprinted to Yang, dragging her into their room as she yelped. Oh, good, she wasn’t making a rash decision, it looked like Weiss and Ruby were gone.

“Fucking hell,” Yang said. “What was _that,_ Blake?”

“I need to talk to you.”

Yang sighed, shaking her head. “Okay, couldn’t have just, I dunno, _said_ that? Why’d you drag me-”

“I can’t stop thinking about Tyson,” Blake declared.

Mid-breath, Yang paused, her jaw slamming shut. She furrowed her brow, eyes looking for something to say as she put a single finger on her lip, as if Yang was trying to stop herself from talking before she put her foot in her mouth.

“Okay,” Yang finally said, taking a deep breath. “Run me through it.”

Blake sighed, confessing every lie she had told herself and replayed every scene that had gone through her head. From panicking over Tyson’s death to wondering why she had been so terribly cursed, nothing became off-limits. Yang listened intensely, her lilac eyes merely watching Blake, or focusing on the window. As Blake relayed the final damning crime, having _feelings_ for this moron, Yang put her hands on her chin, leaning forward.

“Right,” Yang muttered, furrowing her brow. “So… yeah, I know you’re not the best at like, noticing things about yourself, Blake, but… when we were together, this is pretty much exactly how you thought.”

“Huh?” Blake said, feeling her cheeks heat up. Was she blushing? That didn’t make sense.

“Like, you never said it outright, but… this stuff about being afraid of him dying? I figured out pretty quickly that’s why you left. You thought Adam would track us down, and kill us all. I don’t really _blame_ you for thinking that, but we don’t need protection.”

Blake scoffed, trying to play it cool. “When did I ever say that you-”

“When we were at that farm.”

She blinked, taken aback. “What?”

“At the farm,” Yang sighed, shaking her head. “You said if Adam ever came for us again, you’d protect me. Look, I get it, I really do, but we don’t need protection, Blake. We just need to work as a team.”

“How are we supposed to work as a team if we can’t watch each other’s backs?” Blake asked.

“Watching my back isn’t the same as protecting me, and you know it,” Yang said. “Look, you’re deflecting. You know what you want, and I honestly think you’re just denying it. Why… I don’t know. That’s something _you’ve_ gotta figure out. I dunno, maybe talking to Tyson about it will help.”

Blake sighed. “Do you really think talking to _him_ is going to help?”

“I don’t know!” Yang said, throwing her hands up, almost immediately putting a hand on her forehead. “I’m sorry, just… I saw you walk this path before with _me,_ and I know he can be a dick a lot of the time, but people don’t deserve to be heartbroken, especially since he threw himself out there. It’s just hitting close, you know?”

“Yeah…” Blake said quietly, feeling her ears fall flat. Hesitantly, she reached out for Yang’s shoulder, softly rubbing it. “I know you said that it was okay that we didn’t work out, but… are you _sure_ about that?”

Yang sighed heavily, reaching over and putting her hand above Blake’s. “Look, even after everything that happened, I still love you. I meant it then, and I mean it now. Like, yeah, it sucks being me, but if you’re happy, then that’s all that matters in my book. I think out of any of us, you deserve to be happy.”

Slowly, Blake edged closer, enveloping Yang in a hug. Like she had hoped, Yang returned it, squeezing tight. She had expected this to help quell the gnawing fear in her own mind, but somehow this talk had brought out the worst in both of them, a tension Blake wasn’t even aware existed until now. She could feel Yang easing up, relaxing with every breath. She missed this, when she and Yang could be this open and honest with each other. It had been too long since they had really ever talked like this.

“Better?” Blake asked.

“Yeah,” she nodded. “How about you?”

“I think so. Better than I was.”

Yang cracked a smile, pulling back from their hug. “Alright, well, I’m gonna go eat. Wanna join me?”

“No,” Blake said, shaking her head. “I’m… still pretty beat from watch. I should sleep.”

“Alright,” Yang said, nodding. “Don’t sleep too long, yeah?”

Blake barely nodded, already drifting off to sleep as she leaned back on her bed. If nothing else, she had managed to put out at least one fire.

* * *

Blake wasn’t sure how long she had been asleep, truthfully. It was long enough that when she awoke to the sound of alarms blaring, the window had not sunshine, but an eerie blueish-white shade to it, indicating it was well past sunset. Opposite of her, she saw Weiss and Ruby rousing themselves out of bed, trying to figure out along with her what the fuss was about. From the top bunk, Yang hopped down, rubbing her eyes as she headed for the door, cracking it just ever so slightly. Light from the hallway invaded the room, killing whatever night vision Blake had. The alarms just got even louder.

Tyson came into view, kicking open the door even further. It didn’t look like he had time to put on his upper layers, his chest bare as ammo belts hung loosely off of it. The only thing on his back was the bag he kept spare barrels in, his usual combat pants and black boots on as he carried his machine gun around.

“Get the fuck up,” he shouted as he looked them over, “and get to the hangar! We’re under attack!”

The haze of grogginess suddenly ejected out of their minds by the announcement, RWBY set to grabbing their gear, falling in behind Tyson. Halfway on their journey to the hangar, the lights went out, replaced by red emergency lights. This didn’t stop the alarm from blaring in Blake’s ears, since apparently it ran on a separate circuit.

As they rounded the corner to approach the hangar, Blake could hear the sounds of XCOM’s gunfire echoing off the tall walls. Someone had set up floodlights, filling the clearing in front of them with bright white lights. This didn’t seem to deter the alien attack in anyway. Quick-deploy barricades, a system that Shen had cooked up, stood as their cover against an incoming alien horde. Were those Grimm in the background, or were her eyes playing tricks on her?

Blake looked across the line, spotting Killip, Hannah and Mike all fully kitted out – one of more of them must have been on guard duty. Killip probably didn’t even _sleep,_ come to think of it. Further down, Price was directing his squad, one of their machine gunners loading belt after belt into his weapon. Ana had traded out her signature sniper rifle for a different sort of weapon.

“Left side!” Mike shouted. “Left fucking side!”

Blake, Ruby, Weiss and Yang slid into cover next to Ana, who had tossed away an empty magazine, rocking a fresh one in. “What’s the plan?” Yang asked.

“Defend the base,” she replied. “You know your roles, go!”

“Suppressing fire!” Tyson yelled, propping his machine gun up against the wall.

Yang looked to Blake first, then at Ruby. “Well? Standard play?”

“Yeah,” Ruby said. “They can’t hit all of us, we hit them fast and hard.”

Blake nodded, hopping over the wall. Qrow was already on the field, cutting apart aliens and mechs alike. Who knew how many aliens were here. At least a hundred, judging by the number of dropships that took off even as she ran forward. Bullets cracked past her, nailing individual troopers and officers that tried to direct the battle. Roaring Mutons challenged them to one-on-one fights, while Priests, so-called Shieldbearers, and stun lancers worked to support each other.

She looked to the sky, spotting an Archon performing an elaborate ritual. Orange beams hit the ground, marking danger for the defenders on the line.

“Archon!” Hannah screamed over the radio. “Scatter!”

Rifle fire died down for a moment as XCOM scattered, an authoritative shot ringing out from Price’s sniper rifle killing the Archon. Blake charged forward, dodging Muton bayonet swings and stun lancer batons as she poured Dust rounds into anything that got too close. Yang was engaged with a Berserker, winning by the looks of it. Blake used her Semblance to lock one of the Mutons in stone, angering it.

A burst from Tyson’s machine gun put it down for good, and while she did a careful but deadly dance with a stun lancer, she heard the tell-tale sound of Weiss summoning an avatar of an Arma Gigas. Somebody had a grenade launcher, but it wasn’t Nora. Blake could hear the rounds whistling as they flew through the air, landing at clusters of enemy troops and sending alien limbs flying.

Mechanical warbling filled the air. More mechs. The aliens had dedicated what felt like thousands of troops to this fight. Between killing stun lancers that fell without issue, supporting Yang in fighting Mutons and Berserkers, and overall denying the alien mechs space to work, Blake lost track of the ensuing battle. The only thing that mattered was to keep killing and keep moving.

Terrible stomping replaced the general sounds of dying aliens. A strange being crashed onto the scene, plasma rifle in its hand. Its awkward gait struck Blake as odd, watching some sort of green helmet swivel around. It looked like it had trouble moving.

“What da _fuck_ is that?!” Mike asked.

 _“Big alien robot!”_ Killip screamed. Was his eyesight bad or something? This thing didn’t look any bigger than a normal alien mech to Blake.

“Light that motherfucker up!”

“On it!” Yang yelled, ducking in between machine gun and sniper rifle fire to make her way to the alien unit. Blake assisted, using Gambol Shroud’s ribbons to throw it off balance. Yang delivered a solid punch, punctuated by shots from Crescent Rose bouncing off the thing’s apparent armor. Flailing about, the alien unit tried to fire its rifle, but the green plasma shots went wide.

A well-aimed shot – from who, Blake couldn’t tell – broke the apparent helmet, actually a glass container of some kind that shattered, spilling green-yellow liquid that fell all over the place. A shriveled alien clutched controls, slumped over dead. Was this thing piloting it? Did this mean they had killed it?

Without warning, the alien… _thing_ began moving again. No longer attempting to aim its rifle, it charged straight for Ruby, bypassing Yang and Blake on a hellish sprint for their team leader.

“Didn’t we just kill this thing?!” Blake asked.

“I’m on it!” Qrow yelled, running over to assist.

As it ran, the alien leaked its strange fluid, and even from where she was Blake could hear a sizzling noise. What the hell was this stuff? Qrow managed to plant his foot right in it, howling in pain as he fell over.

Blake couldn’t focus on him, unfortunately. The alien had reached Ruby, dodging her wide swings and throwing a crushing hit right to Ruby’s torso, sending her flying into XCOM’s base.

“Fuck!” Tyson shouted, dropping his machine gun. “Rose is down! Moving to assist!”

Another grenade popped off, landing square at the alien’s feet and destroying its legs. This apparently meant it was down and out for good. Blake began running with Weiss and Yang to check on Ruby, only glancing back to see if Qrow was alright – looked like Mike and Hannah had ventured out to get him.

“Ruby!” Yang shouted, sliding next to her sister.

“I’m okay,” she muttered as Tyson helped her stand up.

Tyson turned her to face him, patting her shoulder and staring at her eyes, turning his head to get looks at her various sides. “You sure on that one?” he asked.

“Yeah, I’m good,” Ruby nodded.

Blake was about to sigh in relief, until something wrapped around her torso. She looked down to see a tongue, suddenly yanked away a good sixty feet. She tried to scream, but before she could even try, Blake was enveloped by the Viper’s yellow body. The monster turned to face her, hissing as if it was just waiting for her to die so it could eat her. Did it even do that? Blake didn’t know, but she wasn’t about to find out.

Bullets zipped past her again, despite very much wishing they _wouldn’t_ given she could be hit by them this time. She could just barely see Yang charging over, with Ruby and Price each lining up shots on the Viper. Just one good hit. That’s all she wanted, just for one of them to hit this thing in the head and kill it. Blake could feel it tightening around her, trying to squeeze the life out.

Finally, relief. Either Ruby or Price – she didn’t know and didn’t care – had made the good shot to free her of her predicament. Blake gasped for air, happy to be free again to breathe. Yang helped her up, patting her shoulder.

“You good?” Yang asked.

“Yeah,” Blake replied.

Yang smirked, jerking her head to another group of incoming aliens. “Let’s go get the bastards, huh?”

Blake laughed, nodding. “Let’s do it.”

Time to go back into the fray. The Grimm had elected to join the aliens, and while XCOM focused on taking out wave upon wave of advancing alien troops, Blake, Yang, Weiss and Ruby set to work on taking out the Grimm. The Grimm consisted mostly of smaller ones, like Beowolves, Boarbatusks, and the occasional Ursa. Where had Ren, Nora and Jaune gone to? Why weren’t they here, helping?

Blake couldn’t focus on it for long. Had to take out the Grimm in front of her. With the help of Weiss’s summoned avatar and glyphs, she and Yang took down Grimm after Grimm, trading kills and helping to thin the eventual alien horde.

Suddenly, she heard the base’s loudspeaker emit an ear-piercing screech, turned on by someone. “Yes, I would like to file a complaint about the _fucking psycho_ that’s on the loose in our base right now, and the goddamn inadequate team assigned to help me!” Freeman said over the intercom.

_Wait._ Psycho? That had to have been Adam. Blake turned to Yang, who had the same concerned look on her face. The two broke off back to the base, running as fast as they possibly could. Ana broke cover from the line as well, keeping up with them despite her age and the speed Blake and Yang had adopted. The trio rounded the corner to the prison and interrogation side of the base, where Adam had managed to blast a hole through the wall, locked in brutal melee with JNPR and Freeman.

“We can’t _do_ that!” Jaune shouted.

“ _THIS IS NOT A DEMOCRACY!”_ Freeman yelled back, firing wildly at Adam. _“I HAVE A GUN, I’M IN CHARGE! MANY GOVERNMENTS FUNCTION ON THIS PRINCIPLE, AND SOME OF THEM LAST FOR_ _ **MONTHS!”**_

Blake charged forward, ignoring Freeman as Yang started firing explosive rounds at Adam. With a sneer on his face, Adam kicked Nora square in the gut, turning his attention to Yang and Blake. Time to end this charade, once and for all.

Adam caught Blake’s hand as she swung Gambol Shroud in its katana form towards him, using her momentum against her and tripping her. Yang was right behind her, trading blows with Adam. Dammit, even _without_ his weapon he was tanking hits like a champ. But something was odd. He wasn’t hitting back as hard as he normally could.

She wrapped one of Adam’s legs with her ribbons, catching him off-guard and slamming him into a nearby wall. Freeman took this opportunity to shoot him with his shotgun, blowing off Adam’s arm. Unfazed, Adam merely glanced at Freeman, his neck snapping to an odd angle as he knelt over. To Blake’s horror, Adam’s features began to melt away – almost the same way Tyson’s had in her dream – as it was replaced by what could only best be described as an oozing mass of flesh-colored glaze. The thing leered at them with red, hate-filled eyes, its shot-off arm reforming as it stood a full two heads above them all.

_“Oh fuck!”_ Freeman shouted, continually pulling the trigger on his shotgun. “Die! Die! Die! Die! Die!”

Apparently, shotguns worked extremely well against this thing. It moaned as it fell over, landing hard against the floor and wall. Freeman panted heavily, as Ren, Jaune, Nora, and Blake stared at the thing in shock.

“Okay, you know what?” Freeman said, turning to face them all. “Everyone’s always told me I’m paranoid and that I need to calm down, but _this_ is what I’m talking about! ‘Aliens aren’t invading, Freeman, you’re just being _paranoid,’”_ he mocked, using a ridiculous voice. “’The mailman’s not spying on you, Freeman, you’re just being _paranoid._ There’s no society of anthropomorphic frog people living in the sewer, Freeman, you’re just being _paranoid.’_ Bet they wouldn’t fucking call me paranoid _now,_ would they?!”

Ana sighed, lowering her rifle. “I’ve never seen the aliens use a Faceless to infiltrate us like that before. It would explain how they knew we were here.”

“What does that mean?” Blake asked.

“Faceless are like… fuck, it’s terrifying,” Yang said. “They can perfectly imitate _any_ of us, and we’d never know until they do _that._ Like, they can copy how we talk, walk, fight, it’s the craziest fucking thing.”

Blake felt her heart sink at this news. The idea _any one of them,_ at _any time,_ could have been one of these things was impossible to get out of her head. Was her dream precognitive? Blake found herself wandering away, unwilling to stare at the Faceless any longer.

She passed by the hangar, seeing that dawn had broke. There was heavy cloud cover, but the sun’s light managed to break through it regardless, and judging from the relaxed postures of the XCOM people, the battle had ended. Countless alien bodies and mech scrap piles dotted the clearing in front of them, the rank stench of death creeping into the hangar even from where she was. Tyson was inside the hangar as well, keeping his machine gun low and briefly nodding to acknowledge her.

Blake was suddenly overcome with exhaustion, every muscle, bone and joint in her body crying out for more sleep. Ignoring anything else, she decided to listen to herself, heading back to the comfort of her bed. As she shuffled back to her room, Blake couldn’t help but think. Think about the battle, the wounded, wonder if everyone was okay. Ruby seemed alright. Qrow… she’d have to ask Yang, since she was sure Yang would check as soon as possible.

But something else struck her. She realized that Tyson had broken off from the line to help Ruby, make sure she was okay. He’d never done that before, not that she could remember. So what had changed? Was it some kind of proof, a way to show Blake he _did_ care about people? But that didn’t make sense. He couldn’t have known Blake would see it.

She collapsed on her bed, resolving to talk to Tyson tomorrow when she was far less exhausted and had time to debate whether this was actually a good idea, or just the mindless rambling of someone deprived of sleep.

* * *

The next day, she did as usual. Reported for the injection, hung around until the evening could come, and then reported for guard duty as usual.

“Same shit,” Tyson muttered, taking apart his tripod. “You know the drill. Amari will relieve you at-”

“I have to talk to you,” Blake said, causing Tyson to pause.

“Alright,” he said slowly. “What about?”

Blake took a deep breath. _Here we go._ “I’ve been thinking a lot lately. You’ve done a lot of things that made me change how I think about you.”

“Is that good or bad?” he asked, continuing to take apart the contraption.

“It’s good,” Blake answered. “Listen, I’m willing to take a chance on you. Maybe it goes somewhere, maybe it doesn’t, but I want to see _where_ it goes.”

He said nothing, having finishing taking down the tripod and unloading his weapon. He sighed, standing up to face her. “Before I say anything else, I want to ask. Why now?”

“When we first started finding all of you, I… I had an argument with my team. Even though she didn’t have any reason to, Ana came and talked to me, helped me see their side and convinced me I should forgive them.”

“I’m not seeing a point,” Tyson said, interrupting her.

“Then shut up and let me finish. Ana told me that she hoped we would move on from that argument, because she had seen too many people die before they could say what they wanted. We’re in the middle of a _war,_ not just against the aliens, but against Salem too, and… well… knowing Salem can’t be destroyed is making things really fucking bleak. I want to know before I die. I _have_ to know.”

Tyson remained silent, avoiding her gaze as much as he possibly could. He picked up his machine gun and tripod, slinging the latter onto his back. “Alright then, I guess we’re doing this.”

* * *

The next day, Blake and Tyson arranged to meet in secret, away from anyone’s prying eyes. Their first clandestine meeting occurred in the middle of the night, before Tyson was meant to take night watch and when it was near guaranteed most of the base would be asleep. The sky was dark, with bright white stars dotting the horizon for what seemed like an infinite expanse on a nice, chill night. Tyson was unusually relaxed as he headed out, opting not to wear his softcap. He sat down next to Blake outside the base, leaning against the wall and staring out at Remnant’s broken moon.

“Hey,” Blake said, causing him to glance over to her.

“Sup,” he said, nodding.

“So… I guess we’re really doing this, huh?”

He smirked, a short laugh shaking his shoulders. “Well, it _was_ your idea. You know what they say, turnabout is fair play.”

“Huh?” Blake asked, giving him a quizzical look.

“You got to know about me. I wanna know about you.”

“Oh,” she said, looking to the ground. It dawned on her that she was in the same position Tyson was in not too long ago, having the unique difficulty of trying to figure out what to say, what he wanted to know, and balancing it out with just rambling about herself. She racked her brain, trying to think of something to give him. “Well, I guess you figured out how I know Adam.”

“I had a guess,” he said, lazily running a hand through the grass. “But I wanna hear it from you.”

Blake sighed, apprehensive. She hated going through old history. “I used to be part of the White Fang. We started out peacefully, working as activists for Faunus like ourselves. My parents used to be part of the leadership, but when they stepped down, people like Adam took over. I… I stood by him because I thought he and the other radicals were right. I bought into a lot of what they said, even called my own family _traitors_ to a cause I don’t think I ever understood.”

Tyson said nothing, no doubt mulling over her words. She could tell, since he always stroked his chin when he was thinking hard about something. “What would you say if I told you I understood that?”

“I would hope so,” Blake said, frowning. “I didn’t think it was that hard of a concept.”

“No, what I mean is, before I joined the Army, I was a member of an all-black militia. We called ourselves the American Revolutionary League. Everything we did was to make sure our brothers and sisters could be free in a part of the world that couldn’t get over the 60’s.”

“What happened then?” Blake asked.

Tyson chuckled. “1964 is when the government decided discriminating against people because they didn’t have the same color skin as you was wrong. Surprise, not everybody caught on to that immediately.”

Blake paused, bringing her knees up to her chest. “Sounds like we’re in the same boat.”

“Yeah. Who know how many jaws I broke with them. I’m guessing you lost track too, huh?”

Blake could only nod. Talking about the White Fang always brought up bad memories, and there was just a healthy amount of regret stacked on top. If only she had gotten out sooner, if only it hadn’t wrecked the reputation her father had built and spat upon the ideals it was founded upon.

“I was arrested four times,” Tyson said as Blake waxed poetic in her head. “Fourth time was right about when the aliens were becoming a serious threat, so judge gave me a choice. Either I join the Army, or prison. Three guesses what I did, and the first two don’t count.”

“Why’d they let you do that if you were a criminal?”

Tyson shrugged. “Dunno. I figured they’d rather have someone who had an idea what he was doing than stuff someone in prison. Wasn’t all bad, though. If the aliens hadn’t invaded, I’d have been set for life with the education they gave me.”

“You said you were something called a Ranger. What is that?”

For a split second, he genuinely smiled, only for it to disappear again. “Rangers are – were, I guess I should say – the elite of the US Army. We don’t surrender, we fight every enemy harder than anyone else. Killip and I are the only Rangers left, and I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but he’s a bit off his rocker. So, I’m going to keep upholding that creed even if the idea of America dies with me.”

Blake nodded, sighing deeply. “Do you ever miss it? Earth, I mean.”

“I miss my family more than anything,” he said. “My brothers, my sisters, all the people I served with. I’d give anything to talk to them one last time.”

Tyson took a deep breath, slowly exhaling as he stared at the ground. Suddenly, he stood up, walking away. “I’m sorry, Blake,” he said. “This is too heavy right now.”

In a flash, he was gone, leaving Blake alone in the night. Had she pushed too far? Or was he afraid of revealing something to her? Blake rested her head against the all, slamming her eyes shut. Regret washed over her – regret over _what_ she didn’t know – wishing she had said the right thing, whatever that might have been.

Well, may as well stop sitting around and feel sorry for herself. A few minutes later, she too headed back inside the headquarters, sneaking back to her room.


	16. Angels Calling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A loss rocks XCOM to its core.

Walking through Anima’s forests, Huang couldn’t help but be reminded of China. Her childhood was full of adventures through places like this, with steep mountains just a stone’s throw away, endless forests, and the twitter of wildlife all around. And, if she ever got bored, there was always good, home-cooked food ready and waiting. She missed it so much, doubly so when everything in nearby Mistral reminded her so much of China. And yet, for all its similarities, it was just removed enough to be jarring, a permanent cognitive dissonance that stopped her from embracing it fully.

“Yo, Hannah,” Mike said, tapping her on the shoulder. “You there?”

She turned to face him, smiling. “Yeah. What’s up?”

Mike shrugged, leaning his rifle against his shoulder. “Eh, not a lot. Pretty quiet.”

She became acutely aware of Qrow, recently recovered, and Killip in front of them, ignorant to what they were doing. Killip seemed to be checking every leaf for a potential threat, while Qrow was… well, Qrow. He looked more like a surly teenager than a seasoned warrior, judging by his general posture and “devil-may-care” attitude. Huang hadn’t known him long, but she got the sense that he didn’t care much for any cause that wasn’t stopping Salem.

Though, given what Price had said when he and Amari returned from Argus, maybe even _that_ was something he no longer paid attention to.

“So, you believe what dey’re sayin’ about Moira?” Mike asked, breaking the silence.

“What, that she attacked Echo? I don’t doubt it.”

Mike shook his head. “Nah, I mean about working with Salem.”

“Wouldn’t be the first time Moira worked with aliens.”

“Yeah,” Mike admitted. “But Salem ain’t an alien. She’s like… uh, some kinda witch or something, innit she?”

Huang looked over at Mike, frowning and furrowing her brow. Did he actually _believe_ that, or was he fucking with her? It was hard to tell sometimes with him, but that was probably part of his charm. Come to think of it, how _had_ she become friends with him anyway? She was a card-carrying member of the Chinese Communist Party, and he was an all-American kid from Boston. Their friendship was unlikely, improbable even, but maybe he had managed to impress her with his ability to be cocky in every imaginable situation, and still be right.

“Mike,” Huang finally said. “What the fuck are you talking about?”

“Eyes forward, butter muffins!” Killip shouted before Mike could respond. She looked ahead. Forest looked quiet, peaceful. She didn’t see much reason to be alert.

“Something’s off,” Qrow announced. “Be ready.”

On instinct, Huang flicked off her rifle’s safety, setting it to full-auto. Next to her, Mike did the same thing on his M4. Their steps slowed, until the entire squad stopped. The animals she heard earlier no longer called, having disappeared due to a potential threat. Tension filled Huang’s bones as she waited for something, _anything_ to happen.

Something roared. _Yao guai._ She had fought these on patrols before, usually smaller boar-like ones, but this was different. It sounded like a bear, and judging by its appearance as it burst through trees, it practically _was_ one too. Qrow usually dispatched these creatures easily, with the rest of the team unable to do much else other than distract the other _yao guai_ while he maneuvered to strike at their weak points. Right now, all Huang could focus on was the massive creature in front of her, knocking over trees and charging right for Killip.

Killip dodged the beast’s charge, firing his shotgun as he went. Huang began firing, even though she was well aware her rounds wouldn’t affect it much. Next to her, she heard Mike’s rifle start barking, keeping its attention between the three as they emptied a full magazine into the thing. In a flash, Qrow had rushed over, slicing its head off and dramatically striking a pose as it faded away.

“Good job, men,” Killip said. “Now let’s keep moving!”

They hadn’t even taken two steps before alien rifle fire crashed through, zipping past their heads as the red-tipped bullets broke trees and embedded themselves into the ground miles away.

“Where the fuck are they?!” Mike asked, shoving a new magazine in.

“Left flank!” Killip sounded off, pointing to a general direction. “This is _my world!_ _ **You are not welcome in my world!”**_

“Ambush!” Huang called out, before realizing that might not have been entirely necessary. Aliens appeared on the right, but Killip wasn’t paying much attention to them. Alien mech at the front. Too many troopers and stun lancers to count, with Mutons supporting. She started to lose focus on anything that wasn’t an alien in her sights. She was sure Qrow was working through the alien lines of his own accord. Mike was definitely taking a good handful out. Killip… Killip was probably still shouting and cheerily blasting through aliens like no tomorrow. This was supposed to be a simple patrol.

“You sissified maggot scum have just signed your death warrants!” Killip shouted above the gunfire. Well, at least she could count on that.

“They’re flanking from the right!” Qrow shouted.

“More _yao guai!”_ Huang called out.

Mike tossed away an empty magazine, ripping open one of his pouches. “Aw, you gotta be _fucking_ kidding me!”

Huang looked to her left, spotting what had to have been an incoming enemy platoon. “We’re being overwhelmed here!” she shouted, taking out her Scroll to call up reinforcements. Just before she could reach into her pocket, it felt like someone had punched her in the gut, forcing her to flinch. What was that?

Something about it was warm, hot. It tickled as it made its way down her body, and she looked down to see a small river of crimson red cascading down her uniform. _What an odd sensation,_ she thought. Here she was, dying, but it felt warm and ticklish. Huang was on one knee, wanted to stand up but couldn’t. Her legs, her body, her _mind_ even, it all refused to cooperate. No, _no,_ _ **no,**_ she couldn’t die. _Wouldn’t._ She could find a way to survive. _I’m not going out like this,_ she thought. _I just need a little strength. That’s not too hard._

She blinked, finding her vision begin to blur. Couldn’t think straight anymore. Everything felt weightless, like she was submerged underwater. Lying down would be nice. _Yeah, let’s do that._ She could save her energy that way. As Huang blinked again, she could see Mike’s face come into view, his face merely a blur but even through that blur she could see panic on his face. His voice was muffled, like he was downrange and behind a wall or something.

 _“Oh God, Hannah!”_ Mike shouted. _“Hannah, talk to me, come on, come on…”_

Huang tried to speak, but nothing came out. Just a mere squeak, something Mike didn’t even hear.

 _“Hannah, you’re gonna be alright, y’hear me? Just hold on, alright?”_ Mike said, grabbing her shoulder. He turned to look at someone far away. _**"Where’s the fuckin’ evac, goddammit?!”**_

God, she was so cold. How Huang wished she had something to keep her warm. Maybe Mike would hold her close, keep her company for a bit. She didn’t feel any pain anymore, but everything was just so _cold._

 _“Hannah,”_ Mike muttered as he leaned in close, tears falling off his face. _“Don’t fucking close your eyes goddammit,_ _ **please**_ _, just keep your eyes open. You gotta hang in there a little bit more, alright?”_

_I’ll miss you, Mike._

* * *

Blake had just settled into the common area, sighing as she – again – mulled over the regret that had come to pass these past few days. She and Tyson hadn’t talked since their midnight rendezvous, and the things they had talked about swam in her head constantly, breaking her concentration on her book. How was he able to talk so much, and say so little at the same time? It seemed like everything she wondered about, he had a way to deflect and obfuscate. The more she thought about it, the more Blake realized maybe he just didn’t want to say anything yet.

She didn’t blame him.

Suddenly, Tyson was right across from her, taking a seat. “Hey, Blake,” he said. “Got a minute?”

“Sure,” she said, concealing her surprise and putting her book away.

“You asked me last night if I missed Earth,” he said, swallowing hard. “My answer hasn’t changed much, but you deserve to know about Lee.”

Blake nodded, steeling herself for what was coming next. “Okay. Who’s Lee?”

Just as he was about to answer, someone kicked in the door to the area, rushing in as Mike ran in behind, carrying… Hannah?

“MEDIC, HERE, NOW, ON THE DOUBLE!” Killip shouted.

Within an instant, Price, Yang, and Pyrrha had been drawn to the shouting, while Tygan ran out from the infirmary. Mike ran around, confused as Hannah’s blood covered him with panic flush in his face.

“Fuckin’ get outta my way!” Mike shouted, heading right for Tygan.

“What happened?”

“Don’t fuckin’ ask questions!” he yelled at Tygan. “Just, fuckin’, I dunno, do your shit and fix her, goddammit!”

Tygan accompanied the two into the infirmary, with Killip and Qrow casually walking into the common room. Both looked far too relaxed, given the circumstances and implications. Blake wanted to move, help in some way, but Killip’s shouting and Mike’s hysteria-filled voice paralyzed her.

“Killip,” Price said, heading over to the sergeant. “What happened out there?”

“Alien ambush, sir,” Killip reported. “Shoebox caught a bullet, it seems. I have full confidence Tibban will be able to patch her up in no time!”

Qrow groaned, shaking his head. “I’m not sure about that one. She lost a lot of blood.”

“Bah,” Killip said, dismissively waving a hand. “Blood’s replaceable. Grows back. She’ll be fine, sir.”

“Hmm. I think I’ll wait for Tygan’s report,” Price muttered.

Just as Price had finished his declaration, Mike burst out from the infirmary, turning to the interior and pointing an accusatory finger at it. _**“Fuck you!”**_ He performed an about-face, stomping away and throwing his hat to the ground. Seeing the multitude of eyes upon him, he spread his arms wide, as if he was challenging them. “What’re _you_ looking at?! Anyone else wanna fucking piss me off today, well go right the fuck ahead, fucko!”

Without waiting for any kind of response, he made his way to his room, slamming the door shut. Meekly, Tygan walked out of the infirmary, informing those nearby that Hannah had passed away, news which soon spread to the entire headquarters.

All that could be heard out of Mike’s room was screaming and strings of cursing, with the occasional quiet spot.

* * *

Hannah’s passing sent a shockwave through the base. Pyrrha joined Mike in mourning the loss, having been close to her. Yang and Weiss shed their tears, of course, but didn’t claim to know her as well as Pyrrha did. Ana and Price seemed the most shaken up, with the latter regretfully lamenting the loss of a fine soldier. Price’s squad had a variety of reactions, mostly in raising a drink to their fallen comrade. Bradford had already begun making funeral arrangements, conferring with Wu on how best to handle it. Meanwhile, Blake and Ruby comforted their friends as best they could, unable to offer anything more.

Talk had circulated about attendance. As far as Blake knew, almost everyone other than Freeman had made mention of going to the funeral. She wasn’t sure where Tyson stood, but Blake was sure to go if only to be there for Pyrrha. Tonight was another evening with guard duty, taking over for Tyson in the night.

He waved to her as she climbed up the ladder, packing up his machine gun. “Same as usual,” he muttered.

“Wait,” Blake said, holding up a hand. “I haven’t heard you talk about Hannah’s funeral. Are you going?”

Tyson furrowed his brow, shrugging. “Why should I?”

“What do you _mean, ‘why should you’?”_ Blake asked.

“I don’t see a compelling reason to.”

“Mourning a fallen fighter isn’t a good enough reason?” Where the hell was this coming from? Had he gone insane?

Tyson sighed, shaking his head. “Look Blake, I can’t take a break just because someone died. I’m not dwelling on people who aren’t here anymore, I have to move forward.”

“You fuckin’ kidding me?”

Blake turned around, spotting Mike coming up the ladder. He looked pissed off, somehow angrily getting _off_ the ladder as he stared Tyson down.

“Is that some kinda joke, Holzmann? Cause if it is, it ain’t that fuckin’ funny. She fucking _died in my arms._ I didn’t get to fuckin’ say goodbye to her before she died, you little shitstain. Fuckin’ disgrace to the uniform.”

She saw Tyson tense up, bite the inside of his mouth as if he was keeping himself in check. “Watch your mouth, Dudley,” he said. “Step off. I’m not gonna fight you over this.”

Mike shook his head, scoffing. “Yeah, I didn’t think so. Fuck you, dude. Ain’t so hot when you ain’t got your Ranger buddies to back you up, huh?”

“Dudley,” Tyson warned. “Last chance. Go get some sleep.”

Mike sighed, tossing a flippant middle finger at Tyson as he headed back down. Blake let out the breath that had been held in her lungs the entire time, on edge just in case a fight broke out. Tyson visibly relaxed, muttering something in German. Once she was sure Mike was out of earshot, Blake turned and gave Tyson a glare, furrowing her brow.

“What’s your _deal,_ anyway?” she asked. “Hannah’s _dead_ and you don’t care.”

“You wanna know why I don’t care? He asked. “Look around you. Everyone here signed up to fight the aliens _knowing_ they’d die.”

“I didn’t,” Blake said. “My friends didn’t. Yang and Weiss didn’t _join_ you guys, they were coerced into it.”

“They still did it anyway! They could have dropped out at any time. Hannah knew what she was fighting for.”

“That doesn’t mean you get to be an asshole about it!” Blake shouted.

“You don’t get it, do you?” Tyson asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. _“I’m already dead!”_

Blake gasped, feeling her eyes grow wide as she took a step back in shock. Neither of them said anything for several anxiety-filled moments. Unsure what else to _do,_ Blake enveloped Tyson in a hug, which forced him to pause for a few moments before he shoved her off.

“Get off me,” he said. “You can’t make this better with a hug and a motivational speech!”

“You don’t get to say something like that and push me away!” Blake shouted. Were those tears forming in her eyes? "Don’t _say_ things like that, dammit!”

“I accepted I was dead the second I agreed to fight, Blake. For me, there was _never_ a question if ‘if’, it was _always_ ‘when’.”

“Stop being such a selfish prick and think about others, _for once in your life!”_

Tyson threw his hands wide, shaking his head. “Guess all the things I told you about my life were in one ear, out the other, huh?”

“They _weren’t!”_ Blake said. “You’ve lost people, well guess what, _all_ of us have lost people! You’re the only one here who’s cynical about it all!”

She paused, clenching her fists in a vain attempt to calm herself down. She tried to hold her tears back, but could feel them rolling down her face anyway. “That’s no way to live. You can’t keep doing that to yourself.”

“Oh yeah, it’s _my_ fucking fault the aliens decided to kill everyone I know and love. Yeah, I definitely brought that on myself.”

“That’s not what I’m saying and you know it!”

“Whatever,” Tyson muttered, walking past her. “I need to go cool off or something. See you around, Belladonna.”

Blake stood there helplessly, even as everything in her cried out to turn around and try to apologize, say something to fix this. But, in the back of her mind, she knew nothing could fix this. An overwhelming sense of dread washed over her as she fell to her knees, practically collapsing on the rough ground.

Why was she so cursed to constantly seek happiness, only to be rejected time after time?

* * *

Hannah’s funeral was a somber affair, even by funeral standards. Micheal had been first in, wordlessly standing by the coffin, a position he maintained for the entire event. Slowly, the base’s staff and host of soldiers filtered in, paying their respects and swapping stories. She was noted as a friend to all, and a dependable, solid solider. Killip went on record claiming she was one of the finest soldiers he ever had. Few seriously expected Freeman to show up, but Tyson’s conspicuous absence raised eyebrows.

Halfway through, the door opened, then closed just as quickly. Blake looked to see who it was – Tyson, despite saying he wouldn’t come, had opted to attend anyway. He slowly headed over to Mike, who looked exceedingly pissed off.

“I’m sorry, Mike,” Tyson said. “She didn’t deserve this.”

Mike let out a heavy breath, his shoulders dropping. “Yeah, thanks man.

“You all good?”

“Not even close.”

Tyson paid his respects, quietly informing Blake he wanted to talk to her later. Just as he left, Wu raised a glass, reciting a Chinese proverb. Ana prayed for her soul, an act that Yang informed Blake was common at these events. Slowly, the crew and soldiers began to filter out, leaving only Blake alongside Yang, Weiss, Mike and an inconsolable Pyrrha.

“Y’know,” Mike muttered. “She talked about you guys a lot.”

“Huh?” Yang asked. “Who, me and Weiss?”

“Yeah. After you guys left. Wanted ya to stay.”

Weiss sighed, looking down. “We couldn’t. We had to come back here.”

“We knew, yeah,” Mike said, shrugging. “I dunno. She wanted to see you guys at peace, ya know? Always talked about teaching Yang Chinese, show you guys her home, or I guess what was left of it.”

“Fucking dammit,” Yang said quietly as tears formed in her eyes. “Why’d you fucking have to tell me that, you idiot?”

“She would’ve wanted you to know. Fuck, she… never really got a chance to here.”

Yang slammed her eyes shut, turning away from the group. “I need to just – I – _fuck,”_ she muttered, heading out of the room. Blake followed, chasing Yang like a shadow to make sure she was okay.

She found Yang in the hallway, slumped against the wall. With no other options, Blake sat down next to her, draping an arm around her shoulder. “It’s OK,” she said quietly. “You were strong for everyone else.”

Yang clutched her hand to her face, as if it’d stop tears from flowing out of her eyes. Blake wasn’t sure how long they’d spent there, letting her sort through the pain and grief of losing someone like this, but it didn’t matter. Blake had to be there for Yang.

“Okay,” Yang said, shuddering. “I’m good now. Thanks, Blake.”

“Yeah,” she said. “Anytime.”

* * *

She had not forgotten Tyson wanted to talk to her. Blake found him near the armory, inspecting weapons with a clipboard in his hand, using the other to move parts around or write down notes. She knocked on the doorframe, and he waved her in, quickly returning to his work.

“So… you wanted to talk to me?” she asked.

He nodded. “Yeah. I… I need to tell you some things.”

“Can we make this quick? I really need to check on Weiss.”

“Sure, I can do that,” Tyson said, putting the clipboard away.

“Well, I’m listening.”

He nodded, smirked almost, as he leaned against the counter. “First off, I can’t undo the day, but I _can_ apologize. I was out of line last night, and for that I’m sorry.”

Blake sighed, feeling her ears fall flat. “Thank you. I… it was… I’m glad you apologized.”

“Two. Before the aliens invaded, before XCOM, the Army, all of that, my best friend was Lee. I met him through my sister, one of her friends that she hung around with. We knew everything about each other, hell, probably most shit people don’t often know about on another. If I was acting like an idiot, he’d be first to tell me.”

“Where is this going?” Blake asked.

“Long time ago, we started talking about dating. Like, not dating other girls, but dating other guys, you know? I was scared out of my fucking mind, didn’t know how he’d react, but hell, turns out he was bi just like I was. But nothing ever went down, because either he’d already have someone or I’d be too involved in the Army to do anything. Point is, we were tailor-made for each other. I don’t know how many times I stayed up late talking to him, either to help him out or just catch up.”

“Do I want to ask what happened?”

“When I first joined XCOM, I couldn’t tell anyone about it. Back then, it was still top-secret. So… we lost touch. For all he knew, I was still just a regular grunt. He made me promise that I wouldn’t get hurt, so I did. Cue alien invasion. Few months later, they started burning down cities.”

Blake blinked, her mouth feeling as if it was made of cotton. “What do you mean, _start_ burning down cities? I thought they had already been doing that?”

“No, not during the war. I didn’t know it was happening until like a year later. Got a week of leave, so, I went home. To my family, to Lee, everyone I grew up with. Got to just outside Athens and it was just… gone. City of 115,000 people, all gone just like that. Aliens had piled up bodies into these huge pits just to be burned, guess it was an example or something.”

“Oh my God,” Blake muttered, stepping closer to Tyson and putting a hand on his shoulder. “I’m so sorry, Tyson, I had no idea.”

“Everyone I knew was dead. Lee, my sister, my parents, all my friends. Spent the next… fuck, however long flipping between wanting to shoot everything in sight and wanting to eat my gun.”

Blake stared at him, trying to figure out what he meant by “eat his gun” until he mimed the action for her. Suicide. She gasped when it dawned on her.

“Only reason I didn’t do that was because every time I went to try, I saw Lee standing there, asking me what the fuck I thought I was doing. Seemed easy to rationalize it to him. Hey, if I do this we can see each other again. Won’t have to live in this hell every waking moment. He’d just shake his head, call me an idiot, tell me to stop being so fucking stupid and keep moving forward.”

“Do… do you still think that way?” Blake dared to ask.

“No, like I told you last night, I’m already dead. You wanna know why I really keep that journal? It’s so I can remember. Everyone in there, I can see their faces… well, for the most part. But… I’m losing Lee’s face. I don’t remember it anymore.”

Blake saw tears start to come out of Tyson’s eyes, and he stopped for a moment, swallowing hard and taking several deep breaths. “So, that’s why I’m such a callous dickwad,” he said without a hint of irony. “I don’t want to forget Hannah. If I see her body, then that’s it. She’ll be gone by tomorrow.”

“No, that’s… that’s reasonable,” Blake said, wrapping her arms around him. “You’re not callous. It’s okay to not want to forget people, especially people like Lee. I really wish I could make this better for you.”

“Thank you,” he said weakly, “I should really get back to this. Thanks for listening, Blake. It means a lot.”

Getting the hint, Blake left Tyson alone, slowly closing the door as she left. Once the door clicked shut, she could swear she heard him softly crying.


	17. Dachschaden

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moira is spotted once more.

The orbs relaxed Moira. She had never much studied it, but it was likely a side-effect of their healing properties, another example of her genius at work. However, watching them bounce around and defy all logic was not just aesthetically pleasing, but beautiful. The yellow regenerative orbs caused lush life to grow, restoring what was once thought lost to time, while the dark purple orbs decayed and destroyed, sapping the life out of anything that came near. She could feel her strength gaining, if only a little. It was nowhere near the sort of power she could gain if she were systematically dismantling a person’s very genetic structure, but it was something nonetheless. Every little bit helped.

“Do you think this will work?” Hazel asked as he marched alongside her, heading to the abandoned town.

“Yes, though I again remind you I don’t need you here.”

Hazel sighed pensively, recoiling as a yellow orb passed by him. “The silver-eyed girl and her friends are _not_ to be trifled with,” he warned. “Inexperienced they may be, they are still dangerous.”

Moira rolled her eyes, watching a purple orb fade away as it lost energy and momentum. “I have seen them _all_ in action, Hazel. You give them too much credit.”

“Their skills cannot be underestimated. If you think them weak, why would you even allow the aliens to ambush them?”

She steepled her fingers, leering at her companion. “It is not my preference to see to matters personally, but I will see them done. Even if it means micromanaging the aliens. The struggle for martial superiority is so tedious, irrelevant even. The superiority of _ideas…_ _that_ is the quoin of my realm."

“It must be so nice to be above it all,” he grunted.

“It matters little what you think, Hazel. I have Salem’s favor. XCOM is but a bump in the road, and slowly they realize failure is all that awaits them. Victory is within our grasp.”

Hazel did not respond. He seemed content to walk in silence, and that was fine by Moira. The trees began to make way for an open field, and then, an ancient walled village, once a relic of humanity’s hubris against the Grimm. The more time she spent here in Remnant, the more she saw analogies to her struggle on Earth. As in Remnant, so on Earth – organizations conspired to dismantle and oppress those who spoke the truth. On Earth, it was Overwatch and Moira’s scientific breakthroughs. On Remnant, it was Ozpin and Salem’s faction.

“I thought like you, long ago,” Hazel said as the aliens began to arrive and dispatch themselves. “Glad I got out of that.”

“I don’t care about your history.”

“And I don’t care about _you,_ Moira,” he replied. “Nobody’s an enemy under Salem. But that doesn’t mean we won’t cut your throat if your arrogance means our own goals are held back.”

Moira narrowed her eyes as him, silently seething. How _dare_ he dictate such things to her. “Our enemies believe they can save this world. They are mistaken.”

Hazel sighed, shaking his head. “And if you keep thinking everyone is below you, one day someone will stab you in the back.”

* * *

Tyson wasn’t sure why he had admitted everything to Blake. Maybe it was a way for him to atone for his string up fuck-ups that had led to that point. Maybe it was some twisted concept of karmic punishment, intended to rescue him from himself. Or, perhaps more likely, he just didn’t want to be alone when his time came, and maybe, just maybe, if she survived longer than he did, then _somebody_ would miss him when he was gone.

And, the hidden third option was that he was going bonkers yet again, and was no longer in control of his mental faculties.

Either way, the aliens had somehow been gracious and allowed them a reprieve from combat and sightings. But, the relief was short-lived. A mass of alien sightings followed, sending Misfit, Delta, Echo and Bravo all across Anima. The aliens had grown bolder, deploying more and more troops with each encounter. It wasn’t uncommon for one squad to face up to a company-sized element of enemy forces, and they no longer cared to be subtle. Archons and Sectopods became common sights, terrorizing the uninitiated citizens of Remnant.

To Tyson, it was all a job. All that mattered anymore was killing as many aliens as possible. He had been lax in letting Earth fall, but this time he would make sure the same fate would not happen to Remnant. It was the least he could do, hell, if he didn’t do his job, the aliens would occupy another city. They had all heard the scattered radio reports from Argus, where the Atlesian military clashed with alien forces daily, intent on seizing the Atlesian military base.

But now, they had more dangerous prey here. Moira had been spotted, with another one of Salem’s allies, but it was unclear who. The reports claimed several squads of alien troopers, including the prerequisite officers, a pack of Berserkers, and god-knows how many Vipers and Sectoids. Typical for such adventures, all the intel they had was “we saw aliens here, please kill them.” Tyson had grown used to working with relatively low intel like this, but he didn’t like it at all.

The forests eventually brought them to a small walled city, abandoned judging by the moss that grew on the buildings and cracked concrete that dotted the plazas. This was well outside reasonable support, prime ambush position. He could feel it. Tyson let Amari know, but she merely acknowledged it. Sometimes you just need to spring the ambush anyway.

“Standard S&D mission,” Tyson announced as they reached the center of the main square. “Check your corners. I don’t want to get shot in the back by an alien today.”

“That building looks solid enough to climb,” Amari said, pointing to a nearby tower. “I’ll provide overwatch.” She took off, slinging her rifle to allow her to climb up the tower with both hands. Secretly, Tyson wondered how she had assessed it was suitable for climbing.

Ten minutes of searching had revealed nothing. Had the aliens moved on? Unlikely – they didn’t gather into assembly areas like this before moving out elsewhere. Hell, even with the psionic network controlling their troops, they couldn’t move out _that_ fast.

Unfamiliar footsteps crunched on the ground, heading their way. Tyson aimed his weapon at the noise, with the rest of the squad following suit. It was… evidently, somebody. The man was tall, dark-skinned and dressed in simple clothing. Didn’t look terribly thrilled to see them.

“Identify yourself!” Tyson shouted.

“Nobody needs to die today,” the man said, holding his hands up. No straps, no holsters, no mag-strips that he could see. Wasn’t packing. “I just need one thing from you folks.”

“Wait, I know you,” Schnee said. “You’re working with Salem. Don’t you _dare_ take another step towards us!”

“And if you’ll just hear me out-”

“Not fucking interested,” Xiao Long called back. “Do us a favor and go tell Moira she’s a dead woman walking.”

“Who the hell is this clown?” Tyson asked, leaning over to Schnee.

“Hazel. His Semblance allows him to ignore pain, and he’s an incredibly strong fighter. Taking him down will be difficult.”

Across the plaza, Hazel sighed, shaking his head. “Alright. You can tell Moira yourself.”

Moira’s cackling arrived before she did, appearing behind them in a puff of purple smoke. “How nice to see you’re all back in the field,” she crooned. “Time to finish this.”

“We can handle this,” Amari reported from her nest. “Pin down Moira, I’ll handle this Hazel.”

In a flash, Moira charged forward, casting forth orbs as per usual. She faded to close the distance, a move Xiao Long anticipated as she moved to intercept. A solid blow knocked Moira off-balance, but she seemed fairly confident in herself, as if she knew something they didn’t. _Again._ Hazel began to blitz as well, heading right for Schnee and Rose. Amari kept Hazel moving with her rifle, while Tyson did his best to suppress Moira.

All looked to be in Echo’s favor until the aliens arrived. They burst forth from the houses and abandoned buildings, firing without regard to accuracy as they rushed out to join the fray. Alien rifle fire mixed with Tyson’s MG3 as he alternatively shot at aliens and Moira. Orders and callouts were lost in the chaos as noise stacked on top of noise, preventing any sort of tactical cohesion. Anarchy consumed the town, as whatever buildings and walls were left were slowly chipped away at by bullets, grenades and Dust ammunition.

Even as her orbs damaged Echo and healed her alien friends, Moira withdrew – seemingly for no reason – down an alleyway. Tyson recognized what the ploy was. Lure them down a narrow passageway, that way she could guarantee maximum damage with her ray. Didn’t look like Xiao Long got the memo, because she followed blindly after her.

“Goddammit, Xiao Long!” Tyson shouted. “We need you _here!”_

She flipped him off.

“Fuck! Xiao Long broke off to fight Moira, I’m moving to assist!” he reported, breaking into a sprint to keep pace with her. The confused transmissions from the others were lost as he started to run, ammo and spare barrels jostling with every movement as he ducked in between alien rifle fire.

A sudden flash blinded him, and stopped him cold.

* * *

Where was he?

This wasn’t where he had been before. This place was built up, clean, not abandoned and dirty. Well, not yet, anyway.

_Pacify her._

It sounded like a million voices, all inside his head trying to gain dominance at once. What the _fuck?_

_You don’t really love her._

Blake. She was the only thing he could see in this mess, the others a distant blur. Was she frozen? Was _he_ frozen? He couldn’t tell.

He had a pistol, aimed right for Blake’s head but he didn’t know where it had come from. Didn’t carry this model. He pulled his hand away, only for it to snap right back like a bad horror film. What was going on? He could hear the voices again, repeating those same two lines. _Pacify her. You don’t really love her._ No, he couldn’t shoot her, _wouldn’t._ She had proven herself, she was trustworthy.

Suddenly, fire everywhere. The entire area was on fire, the buildings, the walls, people.

He was one of them.

The fire didn’t hurt, but the visceral reaction to seeing oneself on fire does tend to be panic, which is exactly what he did. He desperately sought help. Rose, Schnee, Xiao Long, the people from JNPR, they were all on fire like he was.

But Blake wasn’t.

He rushed over to her, grabbing her shoulders and turning her to face him. She looked scared, probably for good reason. Behind him, he could hear the others, demanding to know why Blake wasn’t helping them.

“Help me,” he said, but it was so quiet he almost didn’t hear himself over the crackling flames. She just stared back at him, eyes wider than dinner plates as her mouth slowly began to move. He didn’t hear words at first, but just as slowly as her mouth moved, the sentence reached his ears.

_“Do you feel like a hero yet?”_

* * *

“Come out and _fucking_ fight me!”

Yang could feel the anger rising as she stood in this fucking alley. She couldn’t take it anymore. Everything Moira had ever done, ever wanted to do, Yang considered it a personal attack on _her_ now. Who gave a fuck what orders were anymore? Moira had come after Yang, her _family,_ her _friends,_ and for that, she deserved to die. She didn’t even deserve a clean death. Yang would make sure of that.

“So proud, so cocksure,” Moira cooed, appearing in front of Yang. “When will you realize failure is all that awaits you?”

Yang didn’t say anything in response. There was no need to. Moira would die, right here, right now, and there was nothing that she could do to stop it. She had seen Moira’s style before. Moira probably hoped that by playing fast and loose, zeroing in on Yang’s anger, and keeping her unbalanced, she would have an advantage over Yang.

Too bad Moira didn’t know that Yang had been training for exactly this kind of situation. Her anger was no longer a blind, red-hot rage like it had been at Beacon. No, this was something far more refined. It was a focus, a cold anger that allowed Yang to redirect the burning inferno within herself, to hyperfocus on each small step, every little sound. Every step Moira took, each slight of hand she attempted, Yang was tracking. She had timed in her head Moira’s rehearsed attacks, how long she would fade, where she liked to go.

Moira had made a mistake, underestimating Yang. Even as she used her ray to break Yang’s body down again, as excruciatingly painful as it was last time in the forest, Yang could tell she was close to her opportunity. Just one more fade.

 _Come on,_ she thought. _I dare you. I fucking dare you._

There we go. Predictably, Moira faded to the left, but Yang was prepared for it. She grabbed Moira by the collar right as she became corporeal, delivering a punch right to her face that, in Moira’s surprised state, sent her flying through the neighboring building and into the square. On her path, she took out several aliens and the square’s statue fell with her, spreading concrete dust everywhere.

Yang could see fighting still raging on within the square, hopping up onto the building’s floor to make her way to Moira. Wait, shit, she had taken her eyes off the dust cloud for a mere second. Moira was upon her once again, tumbling with her back into the alley as she leaped on top of Yang. More orbs flew out, both to aid Moira and break down Yang’s Aura. She threw the madwoman off of her, resetting herself and preparing for another beatdown.

Moira tried to use her combined beam. Yang dodged it, using her gauntlet to propel herself up and over the incoming beam. Moira tried to readjust – too late. Couldn’t fade, she was focusing all her energy on the beam. Yang delivered not one, not two, but four punches topped off with an uppercut to Moira’s chest and face, sending her back into the square. The fighting was still at full intensity, judging by the rifle fire than emanated from the alien’s side. Yang ignored it all, calmly walking over to Moira.

She looked up at Yang, cracking a smile. Just like in the forest, except this time there wouldn’t be an escape for Moira. “Biology’s habits are hard to break,” she muttered.

Yang never dignified her with a response. She raised her fist, making contact again and again and again and again until there was barely anything left to punch. Around her, she heard the sound of alien gunfire dying down until all was quiet once more. She took a few steps back, staring at the bloody remains of Moira’s head.

Yang looked down at her hand, covered in blood. Thankfully, not her own. It was _done._ She had weakened Salem’s cult, killed Moira, and taken out one of the biggest threats to her team all in one fell swoop. A wave of relief passed over her, like a great weight had been taken off her shoulders and the skies were evacuated of clouds. She felt a hand on her shoulder, turning to see Weiss.

“That’s it,” Yang said, sighing. “We’re finally done with her.”

“You know we’re far from finished, though.”

Yang smirked. “I know. _I’m_ not planning on stopping anytime soon.”

“Hey!” Blake called from across the way. “We have a problem!”

Yang and Weiss turned to her, spotting her kneeling over Tyson. It didn’t look like he was moving. Was he wounded? She couldn’t tell from here. They ran over to him, joined by Ana and Ruby. Tyson was lying flat on his back, staring up at the sky and not reacting to anything in front of his eyes as he muttered to himself in what sounded like German.

“How long has he been like this?” Ana asked.

“I don’t know,” Blake said, her voice shaky as tears began to fall. “What’s wrong with him?”

“It’s hard to tell. We’ll have to keep him safe until we can evac.”

Yang let out a weary sigh, kneeling next to Blake and rubbing her back. It was the least she could do. Why was it that every time they went out to fight, _something_ had to go wrong? Maybe she had been right, back at the farm. Maybe the universe didn’t _want_ them to succeed.

* * *

Their return to headquarters was marked by silence. All Blake could hear was the muffled sound of Amari informing Tygan what had happened. Beyond that, the halls were silent. She wasn’t conscious of footsteps, people talking, the doors opening and closing. Not even the clutter of sounds that had to have emanated from the infirmary reached her ears. Was this shock? She’d never experienced something like this before. Judging by Ana’s face, maybe she had?

Blake barely knew what to feel anymore. Part of her wanted to jump off this bench and run into the infirmary, sit by Tyson’s side, while other other half of her almost accepted that she had lost him forever, already aiming to move on. Either way, waiting was torturous. After what felt like an eternity, Dr. Tygan emerged, a clipboard in his hand and a weary look on his face.

“Ladies,” he said, readjusting his square glasses. “The good news is that the Lieutenant is suffering from an extreme case of alien mindspin.”

“What’s mindspin?” Blake asked. “Is that good or bad?”

“Mindspin is the term we gave to a wide group of Sectoid psionic attacks, ranging from confusion, disorientation, panic, confusion, to hallucinations. That, unfortunately, is the bad news. It would appear Lieutenant Holzmann is experiencing a particularly intense hallucination, one he can’t seem to free himself from on his own.”

Ana sighed, shaking her head solemnly. “What options do we have, Doctor?”

Tygan slowly closed his eyes, shrugging slightly. “Truthfully, our options are limited. With other patients, I would examine their background and psychological profile to tailor a response to the attack, but with Lieutenant Holzman…”

“Nobody knew him well enough,” Ana filled in. “And he knew the right answers for a profile.”

“Precisely. Hopefully, with the Sectoid either dead or outside its psionic range, the effects should pass momentarily. I can’t be sure, however. We’ve rarely had to treat anyone suffering from a mindspin attack of this duration before.”

“So, what,” Yang asked. “We just sit around and hope for the best?”

“No,” Ana said. “We keep moving forward. He wouldn’t want us to wait for him if there’s a war on.”

Tygan cleared his throat. “Well, that said, it _may_ help if some of you speak to him. The sound of familiar voices may have a positive effect in disrupting the delusion ongoing in his mind. That is, however, a hypothesis, and I can’t confirm it.”

“Thank you for the offer, doctor, but we have a more important task at hand,” Ana said.

Blake silently followed to the debriefing, still struggling to wrap her mind around what was happening. She scarcely kept track of the actual debrief, filled with questions about what had happened, who Hazel was, and how he and Moira had managed to command the aliens into a prime ambush position. And yet something about the event – no, about Yang – struck her as odd.

_I did what I had to do._

That was what Yang repeated when pressed on why she had killed Moira. Did she really believe it, or was it a lie she was telling herself to cover up the fact she had murdered someone in cold blood? In between getting Tyson to the infirmary and here, there had been no time to wash the blood off her clothes and hand. Moira’s blood cried out against Yang, damning her for her crime.

Yang had changed, and Blake wasn’t sure if it was for the better. She could tell the others saw it. Ruby seemed almost afraid of who Yang had become, and Weiss only stood near her for as long as necessary. Did Yang see it? Was Yang aware she had changed, and was pushing away friends and family? Or was this temporary, something that would only last until Moira’s body had truly been removed from Remnant?

They were dismissed, and Blake found herself returning to the comfort of her bed.

* * *

Once again, her dreams took her to a forest, but this one did not have machine gun fire. No orbs. No Moira. The darkness had faded, giving way to an early morning dawn that enshrouded the forest in blue. Was there anyone else here? She couldn’t tell as she wandered through the seemingly endless forest.

Blake began to hear something, but she couldn’t place what it was. Eventually, she figured out it was a voice. It was familiar, but who? She began to track it, moving closer and closer with each step. It was Tyson, and he was singing. Blake had never heard him sing before.

_“And would you tell her not to talk as if I died? Though a tiny part just did, and would you tell her I’m from a long line of survivors?”_

“Tyson?” Blake called out. He turned to look at her, his song ending. He looked almost embarrassed, but he met her halfway in the forest anyway.

“Hey Blake,” he said, scratching the back of his head. “Guess you heard that, huh?”

She smiled. “Yeah. It was nice.”

“Ah, wasn’t anything special,” he said.

“Are you coming back? To help fight, I mean.”

He shrugged. “I don’t really know.”

“Oh,” Blake said flatly, looking down. Spotting him in here had been nice, like she was finally comforted, but now… well, after hearing that, the joy had been diminished.

“Don’t worry Blake,” Tyson said, as he began to back away from her. _“Of the love we should say this, there were switches never flicked, long away and far apart, that’s how forest fires start.”_

Just like that, he faded as his words echoed away, and suddenly she was alone once again. The once peaceful forest was now cold and oppressive, and the blue tint to the landscape matched her gloom. Each tree trunk seemed a thousand miles wide, endlessly tall as large, dark leaves obscured her view of the sky.

Why did she feel so small and alone right now?

* * *

Blake’s cryptic dream haunted her. She headed almost straight to the infirmary, where all manner of machinery had been hooked up to him. Monitors were covered with charts and graphs that didn’t make sense to her untrained eye, with tubes dotting his arms. Like a clock, the machinery beeped on and on, the only source of noise in the entire room.

She opened her mouth to speak, but found the words lacking. How could she start a message she couldn’t be sure Tyson would ever hear? Was he even aware Blake was standing next to him? Going off the description Tygan was giving her yesterday, probably not. What kind of chronic nightmare was he enduring right now?

“I wish I could help,” she finally said, the words surprising even her. “I keep seeing my friends and family get hurt, and it… it takes a piece out of me each time. Is it asking too much to have you around after the war ends?”

The only response she got was the beeping, ceaseless and uncaring. _This was pointless._ Of _course_ he couldn’t hear her. How could he? He was still trapped in whatever hell the aliens had locked him in. Blake shook her head, stepping away and angry she had ever thought something so stupid would actually work. Just as she was about to turn away, Tyson’s eyes shot open, and he tore out the tubes and needles that were in him, setting off alarms on the monitors. His eyes were wild, searching for something, anything, until they settled on Blake.

These were not the same eyes she had looked into when he was telling her about Lee.

These were eyes that were ready to kill. Kill _her._ On instinct, he reached for his hip, but found nothing there. The moment of confusion allowed Tygan and a handful of able-bodied assistants to approach, allowing them to pin Tyson down.

“Lieutenant!” Tygan shouted. “You’re alright! You’re back at headquarters!”

Tyson’s struggle continued, then calmed until he relaxed and relented, no longer trying to shove people off of him. He took several deep breaths, holding a hand up to his head and taking a look at the shocked reactions around the room.

“Alright,” he muttered. “What’d I do this time?”

_This time?_ Had this happened with him before? Blake felt herself paralyzed, flashbacks to Adam as the rage in Tyson’s eyes quieted down.

“We should save that for later,” Tygan said. “How are you feeling, Lieutenant?”  
“Like I got run over by a fucking truck. How long was I out?”

Tygan chuckled, taking down a note. “Well, at least your personality remains intact. One day, Lieutenant. I’m unsure how long exactly.”

Sighing, Tyson leaned back on the bed, closing his eyes. “Fucking wonderful. Am I cleared to go out into the field?”

“Not yet, unfortunately. You’ve been abnormally affected by alien psionic attacks, and I would like to conduct a full mental exam before I clear you.”

Tyson rolled his eyes. “Fine, I guess. I need to get back in the fight.”

The aids that had been assisting Tygan broke off, their help no longer needed. Tyson finally saw Blake, still staring at him in shock. Had her mouth been open this entire time? She wasn’t sure. Blake knew that he could be zealous in combat, but… this was something else entirely.

“What’s up?” he asked. “Why are you looking at me like that?”

“You’re back to normal now, right?” Blake asked, unsure whether she wanted to come any closer.

“Well, I guess I’m not until Tygan tells me so. Why? What’d I do?”

Blake swallowed. Would he react like Adam used to, play with her mind and tell her what she saw was fake? That she was being delusional, that there was no way _he_ would ever be angry or upset with her? “You just… you looked ready to kill everyone here. You looked ready to kill _me._ ”

He blinked, looking completely dumbfounded. Tyson’s eyes darted across the room, his mouth twisting as he tried to form words. “I… I’m sorry, Blake. That wasn’t me.”

“Who was it, then?”

Tyson shrugged. “Aliens, I guess? I… I had this vision, it was… I heard a lot of voices telling me to kill you.”

“That’s… really not comforting,” she said, frowning.

Tygan cleared his throat. “Uh, not to intrude, but Miss Belladonna, I _do_ need to conduct this examination, so if you could..?”

Blake nodding, leaving the med bay. She thought visiting would help, but instead her emotions just became more clouded and confused. There was a certain level of fear, stemming from the side of Tyson she didn’t know was even there, but it was mingling with anger. Anger at the aliens, not just for murdering innocent people, but trying to turn her friends and her family against her. For that, she resolved to destroy them, even if she had to kill every last one of them herself.

* * *

“Everything that was asked of me, I’ve done.”

Salem looked down upon Adam, who was kneeling before her. In a way, he had a point. He _had_ done everything she asked. He had been a loyal servant, if one of questionable use at times. But, the primary factors that Salem considered when keeping him around had crumbled. His leadership of the White Fang, once a boon for her faction, had been nearly decimated as his numbers dwindled each day. The Faceless infiltrator that modeled itself after him had been nothing more but a distraction.

“Yes,” Salem said, her voice flat and emotionless. “You have.”

“Then let me do this,” Adam pleaded. “Let me take my revenge.”

Salem looked down on Adam, regarding with indifference the rage that had since consumed him. What a fool. “The last person who attempted to interfere with friends of the silver-eyed girl died.”

Adam sighed heavily, shaking his head. “I’m not like that _human._ I’m better than her.”

“I don’t see it,” Salem replied, rising from her throne. She circled Adam, who tracked her movements through his mask. “Do you know what your problem is, Adam?”

“I don’t _have_ any problems.”

“You’re arrogant. You let your emotions drive you. Most would see this as a benefit, but I view it a hazard. You made mistakes because you didn’t consider alternatives.”

Adam stood up, growling at her. “I don’t have to stand for this slander.”

“No. You _don’t._ You’ll sit down and take it, because you surround yourself with yesmen.”

“And you don’t?”

“I surround myself with people who _do their jobs_ and do it well.”

He scoffed, turning to face her. “Oh, really. What about Cinder, or Moira?”

Was he trying to intimidate her? Call her out on past failures? This would have been laughable, were he not asking for a free pass to attack XCOM.

“Cinder and Moira were blinded by their own ambitions,” she said calmly. “Both thought they knew more than I did. You should not fall into that trap, Adam. I don’t think I have to tell you what happens if you defy me.”

“I don’t care,” he shot back. “Give me Grimm. Give me an _army!_ I’ll destroy XCOM, succeed where Watts and Moira couldn’t!”

“You want to destroy XCOM? Have patience. The aliens are doing their part. We must do ours and wait for them to create an opportunity.”

“Nobody ever got anything _done_ by waiting around,” Adam muttered.

Salem shook her head. “Imperfect plans caused Moira and Cinder’s downfall. Your own mistakes led to defeat at Haven. If I find out you defied me and raised an army to attack XCOM before I order you to, failure against them will be the least of your problems.”

She could see Adam’s hatred growing. Good. Maybe he could channel his rage into something productive. Or, perhaps he would defy her anyway, and provide an excellent reason to discard a troublesome subordinate. Hazel and Tyrian still had their uses, were loyal, and she could rely on them. Adam was merely a means to an end. There would be others like him. Salem dismissed Adam, hoping one day he would see reason.


	18. You and Whose Army?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A probing mission finds where the aliens are arriving on Remnant from. Growing desperate, the aliens attack Mistral again.

Pyrrha watched the rain fall as she stared out the window of the transport. Chief Engineer Shen had managed to track the aliens to a location deep out on the ocean. Initially, it was thought the aliens had a portal of some kind, but that theory was quickly ruled out when scans revealed nothing of the sort. Pyrrha never saw the aliens use something like space-borne ships to deploy troops, and this was the general opinion of Shen as well, who claimed the aliens had to have another method to insert troops. She posited that the aliens had a new method of teleportation to move troops and equipment across planets.

The aliens had eluded all surveillance, until now. Word began to reach them that cargo pilots had spotted an unusual structure out in the ocean, far beyond normal routes and surrounded by Grimm. The Grimm seemed uninterested in attacking the structure, almost as if they were guarding it. Clearly, this was it – Commander Okorie ordered an immediate probing mission against it, sending Delta to investigate.

“Hey,” Jaune said as they approached the suspect location. “Is this what we’re looking for?”

“Yeah, I guess so,” Freeman muttered as he sauntered over to the window. “So, yeah, who wants to bet there’s a million aliens down there? Oh, and the fucking demons too. Perfect!”

Freeman’s grumbling continued as they descended upon a landing platform, with rain still pouring down. Off in the distance, Pyrrha heard thunder rolling across the ocean, preceded only seconds before by a flash of lightning. The platform, which stretched out for what felt like miles from the massive ship, was slick with rain. Already, she could see several alien squads emerging from the ship to challenge them. No doubt they were responding to the incursion.

As she looked out on the massive platforms, she saw more landing pads that branched out, probably to hold transport ships to load up troops. But where did they keep them? Pyrrha took a deep breath as she wiped rain away from her face, taking the scope up to her eye. The storm was growing in intensity, but through it all, a loudspeaker began to come to life. It called out to them in the alien’s language, but Pyrrha wasn’t sure what it was saying.

“Is this real?” Freeman asked. “Every time they talk, it's like I'm hearing a dolphin read from the Necronomicon.”

“What are we supposed to do?” Jaune asked.

“Fuck it, I dunno,” he replied, looking out to the aliens. “Oh joy, more of _you.”_

Pyrrha scanned, spotting no less than ten troopers. Two officers, and a handful of Mutons. Were there any mechs? It would surprise her if there weren’t at least a few around.

“What’s the plan?” Ren asked.

“Don’t let me get killed, and if I do anything cool, be sure to get it on video,” Freeman said.

The aliens were getting closer. Pyrrha took the first shots, readjusting to correct for the first shot going wide with an incorrect wind compensation. Ren and Jaune charged forward, with Nora launching grenades to keep the aliens moving and stop them from being bunched up too much. On her left, she heard Freeman’s submachine gun continually firing, magazine after magazine dropping to the floor.

Pyrrha centered her sights on an alien officer, standing tall to direct troops around. One shot sent him down, disorienting the troops under his command for a moment. As they drew closer and began to clash with Ren and Jaune, she saw her initial assessments were far, far off-base. There wasn’t eight troopers, there was nearly twenty, with mechs, Sectoids and a veritable horde of Mutons and Berserkers coming out to join the melee. A handful of Shieldbearers and Priests emerged as well, both shouting out rallying cries. Pyrrha wasn’t sure if they could reasonably repel this many aliens, especially if there were more waiting inside the ship itself if this first wave was destroyed.

“SUPPRESSIVE FIRE IN, SUPPRESSIVE FIRE OUT, DO THE HOKEY POKEY AND THAT’S WHAT IT’S ALL ABOUT!” Freeman shouted as he ran wildly, zig-zagging to avoid enemy fire.

“There’s too many of them!” Nora yelled.

Ren rolled backwards, resetting himself to fire on the aliens. “We’re too exposed here! We have to go!”

As Pyrrha continued to fire back, a Muton’s shot passed dangerously close to her, singing her hair. Had they figured out she was their primary long-range threat?

“Okay, you know what, fuck this,” Freeman yelled, gesturing to retreat. _“Nothing good ever happens here!”_

Through a flurry of gunfire that zipped back and forth as Delta retreated, their pilot had returned to them for pickup, circling around their insertion point as he looked for an opportunity to land without being shot at. The aliens had closed in on them now, dangerously close and rendering Pyrrha’s scope almost unusable. She could practically count the threads on their uniforms, they were so close.

“I FEEL SUFFICIENTLY MOTIVATED TO LEAVE THIS PLACE,” Freeman yelled as he ducked under heavy fire. “I DON’T NEED YOUR ENCOURAGEMENT!”

Under fire, the ramp dropped, and one by one they extracted themselves from the increasingly lethal combat zone, flying back to safety. The firefight had lasted all of about fifteen minutes, but Pyrrha still felt utterly exhausted. Judging from the looks of everyone else, they were too. Freeman slumped against the wall of the transport, loudly sighing.

“This is stupid,” he muttered. “I bet their planet sucks.”

* * *

Blake had found herself in Tyson’s room once more. Maybe more than once, actually. In the bleakness that was quickly consuming Remnant, spending time here with him made the world a little less dark. Every bit of their pasts were out on full display now as he recovered, soon to be cleared to return to duty. She learned everything about Lee, Athens, his German-American heritage, the friends he left behind, and she revealed everything about Adam, concealing her identity at Beacon, and the constant running away, first from her friends and then from Yang.

But today, something was different. News of JNPR’s probe of the massive alien structure shook the base to its core, not just at the size of it but the garrison that Freeman reported. Granted, Blake didn’t really think it was nearly as large as Freeman claimed, but the idea of a massive alien complex out in the ocean was still cause of consternation.

“Something’s wrong,” Blake said. “What is it?”

He sighed. “I overheard Tygan and Commander Okorie talking. It’s not official yet, but we’re going after that alien ship.”

“Our squad, you mean?” Blake asked, blinking. “That… sounds suicidal.”

“No. _Everyone._ Okorie wants everyone on-deck, that means even Bradford and Ozpin are going in with us.”

Ozpin… he had rarely talked to anyone since then. Oscar said he still heard him in his head, but nobody had heard his actual voice since that day on the way to Argus. She felt her heart sink as the gravity of the rumors began to swim through her head. If _everyone_ was going out… well, that put a lot of people at risk if the alien garrison was even _half_ of what was predicted.

“So,” Tyson muttered. “I wanted to… goddammit, I didn’t think this though.”

“Think what through?” Blake asked. “What are you trying to say?”

He turned to look at her, eyes uncharacteristically sad. He was breathing almost as if there was a weight on his chest. “I saw that ship, Blake. There’s got to be thousands of aliens on it. Fighting into that, it’s going to be a fucking bloodbath.”

Blake stared back at him, wide-eyed as his own eyes began to well up with tears. She had _never_ seen him this broken before.

“If I’m going to die,” he said quietly, “I have to tell you. I don’t care if the only thing I get out of this is five minutes of feeling good, because I love you, Blake.”

She felt herself clasping a hand over her mouth, her face heating up. “Oh my God…”

“I’m sorry for everything I did,” Tyson said, apologizing for whatever bizarre reason. “I wish we didn’t have to meet like this, in the middle of a fucking war I’ve been fighting in for longer than I can remember. I’m _tired,_ Blake. I’m tired of fighting. If I had my way, I’d be hanging up my weapon forever.”

“You can do that though,” Blake said, grabbing his hand and holding it tight. _“We_ can do that. If this is the last thing we have to do to be rid of the aliens, then we can do it!’

“What about Salem?” Tyson countered. “She’s still out there, she’s not going to stop because her new allies got their shit kicked in.”

“Well, we can…” she started to say, before realizing that, like Ozpin, she had no real _plan_ to defeat Salem. “Look, no matter what, with your help, Price’s, Ana’s… we can stop her.”

He shook his head. “I can’t believe that. How the _fuck_ am I supposed to believe that?”

Blake took a deep breath, closing her eyes as if that’d stem the flow of tears that fell from her face. “Because I love you too, dammit!”

Tyson paused, blinking slowly as he took several deep breaths. “Do… do you really?” he asked. “Even after everything I’ve done?”

“We’ve both made mistakes, I think we’re both aware of that,” Blake said, softly smiling. “After we stop the aliens and Salem, we won’t have to fight anymore. When we’re done, you can put down your gun, I can put down Gambol Shroud, and we can just _be._ Together.”

“I don’t know if I can do that,” he said. “All I know is fighting.”

“I believe in you. You can’t keep yourself shackled to this.”

“We’ll just see,” he said, slipping his hand from hers and pulling her close. “We’ll just see.”

* * *

Yang wasn’t sure what, but she could sense… almost a euphoria emanating from Blake as they headed out. Tyson had recovered enough to serve again, and just in time, too. Killip, Qrow and Mike had been posted to Mistral on a near-permanent basis to stave off growing alien probes, and today it seemed like there were too many for them to counter.

Oddly enough, Killip had called them personally for reinforcements. Yang knew first hand, he almost _never_ did that. It must have been really bad if even Killip thought they needed help. But, like usual, he remained enigmatic on details, only claiming a “large alien force”. Nobody could tell if this was accurate, or his usual overestimation. But, overblown statistics or not, they had to respond.

“Here we go,” the pilot said. “Touching down.”

The doors opened, and Yang could already hear the gunfire emanating from just beyond Mistral’s outskirts. This was a lot heavier than it should have been for a simple alien probing attack. No, this sounded like a full on pitched battle.

“What’s the sitrep?” Tyson said, shouting into his radio as they dismounted.

“Fucking christ,” Mike replied. “I count a hundred – no, two hundred – _fucking get over here, goddammit!”_

Echo broke into a desperate sprint, speeding their way to the growing sound of weapons fire being exchanged between the two sides. As they rounded the corner, Yang felt her heart sink. This was definitely more than just a probing attack. This was a full-fledged assault. What looked like countless troopers and officers were joined by Mutons, an endless swarm of Sectoids, Archons that danced and chanted from above, rage-filled Berserkers, and what looked like Specters. A rumbling soon overtook the gunfire, and a Sectopod lumbered onto the scene. There, Yang could just barely make out someone apparently riding on top of it. Who the fuck was crazy enough to do _that?_

“Y’all got that new ammo Shen cooked up?” Tyson asked, setting his machine gun against the sandbags Killip and Mike stood behind.

“Yeah,” Mike answered, shoving a magazine into his rifle. “Fuckin’ working like a charm, are we gonna talk or fucking fight?!”

“Less talk, more fight!” Killip shouted.

Orders got lost s the gunfire began in earnest, prominently Tyson’s machine gun firing like clockwork. Behind them, Ana climbed a nearby building for a better position. The task ahead of RWBY was clear – kill every alien between them and Mistral.

Shots from Ruby’s rifle mixed with Ana’s as Yang and Blake blitzed ahead, joining Qrow in cutting down alien troopers and mechs left and right. Weiss, as per usual, had her array of glyphs at her disposal to alternatively aid them and impede the enemy. Multiple orange beams descended from the sky, landing on the sandbags.

“Fuck!” Mike shouted. “Displace!”

The Archon screamed as it fell, apparently shot by either Ruby or Ana. Explosions rocked Mistral’s buildings, slinging off sections of wall and shattering windows.

Blake and Yang worked in tandem, demolishing and destroying aliens that broke their path. Blake’s Semblance trapped Berserkers and Mutons alike, while Yang took off limbs and heads without mercy. It felt like nothing they did helped, the aliens just never stopped coming.

By now, the Sectopod had drawn closer, rising above the hill like an omen of death itself. Even through the mass fire, Yang could hear Killip laughing maniacally. “Alright, sweetheart,” he shouted. “Let’s do the masochism tango!”

“Yang,” Blake asked, “what the _fuck_ is that thing?”

“It’s something we’re killing right the fuck now!”

As she neared the Sectopod, Yang could clearly see who rode it. Adam. No time to worry about him now. She had a Sectopod to kill.

Yang was no longer aware of the screams of dying troopers and Sectoids, or even registering the shots from each side, a conversation of the most violent nature. All that mattered was working on the Sectopod, to destroy it before it could get too close. Blake was next to her, and that was what mattered. A staccato conference with Blake confirmed that the legs were the weak points, and to be targeted as soon as possible before it could fire up its doom-laser. Yang wasn’t sure that’s what it was actually called, but it was a befitting name.

Rounds bounced off the armor as a Specter tried to overwhelm her. Yang was saved by quick reactions from Blake, who immediately set back to forcing the Sectopod to step into flash-frozen copies of herself. Ice swelled in the machine’s joints as Yang hammered it with explosive rounds. Adam had to have taken notice – he jumped down, no doubt to stop them from destroying what might be his only Sectopod. His weapon shimmered menacingly as he withdrew it, a snarl crossing his face.

“It could have been so easy,” he said to Blake. “You _rejected_ me, _stole_ from me. I was wrong to try to convince you otherwise. I’ll have to kill you.”

“You say the sweetest things,” Blake replied flatly.

“I’ll start with her,” Adam said, pointing his blade to Yang. “And then the rest of your weak friends.”

Yang took a deep breath, exhaling it slowly. Adam wanted to dance? Let’s fucking dance, buddy. She wouldn’t make the same mistakes as last time. She was smarter, had more backup, more allies. Yang could see the anger rising in Blake’s eyes.

She took stock of the situation as the three began to clash. Adam’s range is dangerous, she can’t get too close. Blake can harass him at a distance, force him on the defensive. That could be Yang’s opportunity, but he’d expect that play. No, they’d have to shake it up. Blake can distract, confuse him, get him caught in traps. Yang can hit him hard and fast when he’s not moving. He’s smart, though, knows they won’t be pushovers. Or does he?

Adam deflected their shots with relative ease, switching deftly to the offense the second they gave him an opening. _Shit._ She just realized the others were too focused on the Sectopod to help. Did anyone see what was happening here? Fuck, his Semblance was like a cheap knockoff of hers. Every blow he took, he could fire back twice as hard. What a fucking punk.

Adam’s time on the offensive didn’t last long. Blake punished him hard for overextending by forcing him to hit a stone facsimile, immobilizing him. Yang followed up with a solid haymaker right onto his back, super-charged with Dust that sent him right into the ground. He rolled over just as a shot landed close to his face, causing him to turn towards the direction of the offender. Who fired that off? Ana?

“Keep him still,” Ana said over the radio, confirming her suspicions. “We can end this with one shot.”

There we go. New plan. Keeping Adam pinned was their only priority now. More traps, more suppression, more misdirection. But it didn’t fucking help. He kept dodging everything once he figured out their plan, and it infuriated the fuck out of Yang. Ana’s shots ranged from going wide to just barely missing, only giving Adam more reasons to keep moving and keep light.

Opportunity. He wasn’t defending, he was trying to dodge. His entire vision had become focused on Blake, but he wasn’t paying attention to Yang. One punch, that’s all she needed, right to his fucking gut. That’d stun him for sure. She wound up and followed through, feeling ribs crack as fist met flesh. _Perfect._ Fucking smooth as silk. Almost as if in slow motion, Blake wrapped Gambol Shroud’s ribbons around his arms and legs, preventing him from moving. The report of Ana’s rifle echoed out, and then a burst of blood shot out from Adam’s head as a bullet passed through his forehead.

He lurched over, dead as he collapsed on the ground. Blood poured out of his head. Blake panted heavily, slowly regulating her breathing as she closed her eyes. Yang was sure tears were going to start flowing soon, if it hadn’t been for her stoically breathing out.

“You good?” Yang dared to ask.

Blake looked at her, slowly nodding. “Yeah.”

Together, they turned, spotting only the Sectopod, which was busy marauding its way towards Mistral. Though, it was clearly damaged, and obviously on its last figurative and literal legs. It stopped, preparing to fire its laser as Yang and Blake headed back into the fray.

“Oh fuck me,” Mike shouted. “Get to fucking cover!”

 _“You cannot kill me!”_ Killip yelled in response. _“I am already ablaze with passion for war!”_

Yang watched Killip produce a rocket launcher, from where she didn’t know, which he fired off at the Sectopod. It collided with a massive explosion, shaking it violently as it swayed from side to side. Just before it hit the ground, the laser fired, sending a massive orange ray across the landscape, scorching everything in its path.

Yang hit the ground, assuming – hoping really – everyone else had done the same. A dust cloud larger than any she had seen before was kicked up as the Sectopod fell, obscuring her vision completely. She coughed as she got back up, trying to see through the massive dust cloud. Next to her, she heard Blake coughing. Alright, good sign.

“Sound off,” Tyson sputtered over the radio. “All good?”

“Fucked up, but still breathing,” Mike reported.

“I’m good,” Ruby called out.

“Nothing I can’t recover from,” Ana said.

“Dirty, but safe,” Weiss said.

“I need a drink,” Qrow muttered.

“All good here,” Blake said.

“Same here,” Yang chimed in.

Something was off. Killip wasn’t responding. Yang headed towards the sandbags where she had last seen him, but found nothing. The entire area was covered in parts of a broken Sectopod, but with no sign of him. Yang called out his name, but got only silence in response. As the dust settled, something began to move. It was a pile of rubble churned up by the Sectopod.

Killip clawed his way out of the rubble, having lost his helmet and cackling madly. “Men, Sun Tzu may have invented war, but we invented _winning_ them! Whatever third-world stink pile you people actually live in, today we are all _Americans!”_

Tyson sighed, shaking his head as he called for a transport to bring them back to base. Despite all odds, they had actually done it. They’d not only fought off this massive attack, they’d managed to take out Adam. Yang had never been this relieved before in her life.

“Hey, I got some bad news,” Tyson said.

All eyes turned to him. All color had drained from his face, and he looked positively grief-stricken.

“Central’s saying we’re all to head back to base. We’re hitting that alien ship.”

“Excellent!” Killip said, smiling wide. “You ladies can hold the HQ down, and we’ll go out there and beat some red team ass!”

“No, I mean, _we’re all hitting that alien ship.”_

* * *

It was incredibly cryptic. All Blake had sent to him was a mere text as they headed back to base. “I need to talk to you.” Nothing more, and probes to find out why were met with silence. After reporting in, putting away his weapons and handing off debrief to Xiao Long, he met Blake in the kitchen, the same one he had confessed to her where his true feelings lie. She looked stressed, like there was something weighing on her. Was it the upcoming raid on the alien ship?

“Hey,” he said, closing the door behind him.

“Hey,” Blake said back, sighing heavily.

“So… what’s up?”

She sighed, closed her eyes as she swallowed hard, putting a hand up to her face. “I don’t know if we can win this war.”

This was… odd. Where was it coming from?

“Blake, look, we just took out Adam and knocked out a huge alien force. If they think that we’re not going to follow that up with wrecking everything they’ve got here, they’ve got another thing coming.”

“It should have been me,” Blake finally declared.

Tyson tilted his head, and furrowed his brow. “What are you talking about?”

She opened her eyes, tears starting to fall. “I should have killed Adam myself.”

“What do you mean?”

“Adam _terrorized_ my family, my friends for who knows how long. He hurt my friends. He tried to kill me. I made a promise that I wouldn’t run away anymore, that I’d start taking responsibility for the things _I_ did! I told Yang I would _be there_ if Adam came around again and – I didn’t kill him. He shouldn’t have been able to put anyone else in danger.”

Tyson drew her close, dropped to one knee as he looked up at her. Even when at her worst, he could still see the beauty that was hidden behind years of worry. “Listen to me. Taking him down, it was a team thing. Alright? You’re worried about running away? Blake, if there’s one thing you did out there in Mistral, it was _not_ running away. You ran right into that hell, faster than even I did.”

 _“But I didn’t kill him._ I didn’t keep my promise.”

“Promise to who? Blake, not driving a knife into him doesn’t mean you’re any less of a person.”

“You don’t get it!” Blake shouted, drawing her hands away from his. “Nobody else was supposed to be hurt by him! The only reason Yang even lost her arm was because she was trying to help _me._ If I can’t help my friends, then what does that make me?”

“You can’t control what that psycho was going to do, Blake. You are not responsible for the things he did. Look, killing him, not killing him, nobody here actually cares who fired that shot, okay? What matters is he’s _dead_ and we’re _not._ If you think that what you did wasn’t instrumental to killing him, then I have news for you. It _was.”_

“I didn’t do anything!” Blake yelled. “That’s… that’s all I’ve ever been good for, is just… showing up at the last second and getting a participation trophy.”

Tyson shook his head, standing up and holding her close even as she tried to squirm away. “Fuck off with that thinking, alright? You keep telling me how you’re not worth anything, how you’re… I don’t know, some kind of monster for not helping your friends? You never had to help us with this. At any point you could have stopped and gone home. But you _didn’t._ You keep telling me you wanted to stop running away, but I’ve never once seen you run from something.”

“Then I guess you don’t know me all that well.”

“Goddammit,” Tyson muttered. “Whether you believe it or not, you’ve helped people. You’ve helped your friends. I don’t know if it changes a goddamn thing, but I don’t care if you put that bullet in Adam’s head or not. As far as I know, you’ve stopped running. You turned me from some bitter asshole into someone that remembers what it’s like to fucking feel something again. _Stop telling me you’re garbage, because you’re not.”_

Blake took a deep breath, pulling back to look up at him through glassy, tear-soaked eyes. “Why?” she asked. “Why do you _care_ about me, even after all I did?”

“For the same reason you told me ‘I love you’. You’re so, so much more to me than just another gun. You’re someone I want to spend my life with, dammit. I don’t care if all we get out of winning this war is ten minutes together. That’s enough.”

Blake sighed, resting her head on his shoulder. All he could do at this point was hold her close. Tomorrow… tomorrow they would truly be fighting for their lives. The assault against the alien mothership would determine whether they won this war, or were just delaying the inevitable.


	19. The Final Battle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> From the foot of Mistral to the shores of the sea  
> From the home of the brave to the land of the free  
> One last fight, justice shall be done, the final battle remains

True to the rumors, all hands were on deck for this fight. Even Ozpin had managed to rouse himself out from whatever hole he had hidden himself in, sharing equal control with Oscar as they headed out to assault the alien ship. Yang couldn’t help but watch the multitude of transports fly out to the alien platform on a deceptively sunny day that obfuscate the inherent danger of their task. Freeman’s report, as bombastic as it was, still held at least some weight. If even a third of it was true, there was a massive alien garrison that included everything in the alien’s arsenal of terrors.

“Approaching target position,” the pilot said. Yang wasn’t sure, but she thought she saw an alien squad heading out to meet them on the landing pad, but this wasn’t exactly the welcoming committee she wanted to see. The transports flew low, dropping off their precious cargo and heading off to refuel and wait for an uncertain result.

“Regroup on Romeo,” Ana ordered. “Diamond formation, children!”

Romeo was the impromptu command group made up of Commander Okorie, O’Neill, Ozpin, and Bradford, leading the charge across the endless platform. Ahead of them, Yang spotted a handful of mechs that were joining the alien troopers. Maybe a Sectoid in there too? It was hard to tell. Aliens opened fire first, but at the ranges they were at, the shots went wide. Romeo and Delta, which had deployed ahead of them, replied in kind with their own fire.

Ana urged them to keep moving forward under her covering fire, the sound of her rifle breaking out every few seconds as they charged down the platform. The weapons fire came ever closer, almost dangerously close, as she got closer and closer. A horrible screech filled the air. Yang could see it now, a Codex. Fuck, why’d they have to deploy these things _here?_ Next to her, Tyson’s machine gun roared as he fired off burst after burst.

Orders, if anyone was giving them out, mixed with the gunfire. Troopers fell left and right as Ana and Pyrrha fired their rifles as Ozpin and Qrow danced in between the mechs. Even their heavy rifles were no match for their speed as they worked to destroy and disable them. Frustrated Mutons tried to engage them in melee combat, but found their wide swings frustrated by parries and unexpected thrusts.

“Punch through!” Price shouted as he shoved a fresh magazine in.

Ana fired a shot at the Codex, only causing a copy to appear. Yang charged forward, punching a Muton off the platform and down to a certain doom. She was making sure this Codex wouldn’t have time to do anything serious. As she charged, one of the copies stopped to fire off a series of suppressive shots at her. Before she could close the distance, the Codex brought forth a psionic field, and on instinct Yang looked behind her.

One of Price’s soldiers, Wu, had been caught in it, alongside someone else, Grün. It was like they were trapped in water, moving in slow motion as they tried to free themselves of the field. Within seconds, the field collapsed on itself, and in a flash of blood, Wu and Grün simply ceased to exist. Filled with rage, Yang turned back to the Codex. It phased in and out of reality even as copies of itself were knocked down left and right. It almost seemed to _challenge_ her, daring her to avenge the fallen. Yang obliged, delivering a devastating punch that sent it flying, leaving behind only its central “brain” as it screeched into the abyss.

Behind her, grenades from Magnhild flew past her, sailing for alien defenses like turrets that had begun to warm up. Scattered rifle fire headed for the turrets, but not before mixing with screams from somebody whose voice Yang didn’t recognize. The sound of Tyson’s machine gun echoed in the air as orders, callouts to focus on specific enemies, and general curses on their situation mixed with combat.

She checked her Scroll. They had thirty minutes from touchdown to get in and destroy the alien ship. **4:14.** Had they really spent that much time just fighting this stretch of hell? It didn’t feel like it to her, but it had been the better half of a kilometer to get here.

“Door’s open!” someone shouted.

“Go, go, go!” Price yelled, waving his arm forward in emphasis.

Commander Okorie’s voice filled the radio. “All squads, split up and search for the alien relay! It is priority number one!”

Echo quickly regrouped as they headed inside the alien ship. Ana urged them to push forward, their only option after Bravo broke to the left, Romeo headed left, and Delta descended a staircase, led by Freeman firing wildly. As they ran past bizarre green and black alien walls, Yang heard the tell-tale sound of Chryssalids deep inside. _Fuck._ In these confined quarters… they’d be even deadlier. It was a fucking miracle they had never encountered them before today.

“What was that?” Blake asked, visibly shaken.

“Chryssalids,” Weiss explained. “Don’t let them get close, they’re extremely dangerous.”

“Shoot the fuckers on sight,” Tyson chimed in. “Nobody’s dying to one of those motherfuckers today.”

“Keep looking for the relay,” Ana reminded.

Searching for it was harder than expected. Nobody knew the alien language, much less had been able to translate it, and the entire ship proved to be like a maze. Multiple paths led to seemingly dead ends and useless areas, others filled with strange boxes nobody could discern the purpose of. Their usual means of navigation proved useless, sending false messages and wrong directions. All around them, muffled echoes and thumps of combat elsewhere and moving alien reinforcements made discerning where the enemy actually was and wasn’t near impossible. The lights had been turned off – either by someone hitting a generator, or intentional shut down by the aliens – forcing Ana and Tyson to turn on the flashlights attached to their weapons.

Rapid gunfire filled the halls, followed by screams. That was close.

“Need backup!” Price shouted through his radio. “Alien ambush! Svenson and Harkov are down!”

“Yang,” Tyson ordered. “Break off and assist, we can find the relay!”

“Are you _sure?”_

“Just _go!”_

Yang ran off in the direction she thought she heard the gunfire from. It was ramping up – Price and whoever was left must have been fighting back. How many aliens had ambushed them? She found out soon enough. Mutons were mixed in with a team of Sectoids, all clashing in a brutal melee with Price. He had the Mutons under control it looked like, but the Sectoids were going to be an issue. Yang engaged the latter first, heading into melee range with them and beating the everloving hell out of each one, allowing her to reorient herself against the Mutons.

More yelling. Alien reinforcements. Yang charged a Muton that was leveling its rifle at Price, taking its arm with her as Price put down the one he was tangling with for good. A squad of alien troopers arrived, immediately opening fire as they rounded the corner. Price got a good shot off with his 1911, taking down one of the four. Yang fired off several rounds, killing two more. The last one had a grenade in its hand, lobbing it at her and Price.

She barely had time before the grenade exploded, throwing her to the ground. Disoriented and dazed, she tried to get up, her head ringing like a massive bell had gone off. She didn’t feel hurt – what had happened? Other than just getting knocked off her feet, anyway. Yang blinked, shaking her head as focus started to come back. Price was good, the aliens were done. She checked her Scroll again. **2:59.**

“Relay found,” Pyrrha reported, panic filling her voice. “We need help, under heavy fire!”

Yang and Price met back up with Echo, heading towards the relay based on the description Pyrrha was able to give them. She further informed them as they ran that Chryssalids were positively swarming it, and Freeman had made the “executive decision” to wait for reinforcements before attempting to breach.

The Chryssalids could be heard long before they could be seen, and even before the gunshots could be heard. As they neared Delta, Yang saw Freeman cowering behind a box, wildly firing his SMG over the top of it, barely hitting anything.

 _“You’re the reason we have napalm!”_ he shouted, somehow killing a Chryssalid that ventured outside the door to the relay. “Fucking overgrown bugs! Jesus Christ!”

“Set up a firing line!” Tyson shouted, setting up his bipod.

Now incensed by the additional firepower from Echo, the Chryssalids began to swarm out from the relay room. Tyson’s machine gun mixed with Nora’s grenades and shots from nearly every rifle in the area, and any that broke through were quickly dealt with by Yang or Blake.

“Report,” Bradford asked. “Where do we stand on the relay?”

“Chryssalids everywhere,” Ana reported. “We can’t break through, we need backup immediately!”

Yang turned as she heard shouting coming from behind them. Alien reinforcements had arrived, joined by a loud crashing noise. Dust clouded their vision as Chryssalids began to retreat. Why would they fall back? It didn’t make sense.

As the dust settled, the horrible truth became apparent. A Gatekeeper, the informal name given to the thing guarding the Psionic Gate in New Mexico, had made itself known. Just like it had there, it paused, looking at each of them with its orange eye, panels moving in and out of alignment for reasons unknown.

“Oh, no, no, no, no!” Freeman moaned in dismay. “I don’t wanna fight H.P. Lovecraft’s Pokéball!”

“Commander,” Price reported, uncharacteristically panicked. “We have an alien Gatekeeper, I repeat, Gatekeeper is in play!”

“Take it down with everything you have!” she ordered. “We are _not_ losing our window, do you understand me?”

“Yang,” Ruby asked, her voice shaky. No, _she_ was shaky. “What do we do? What is this thing?”

“We hit it with everything we have,” Yang said back, trying to mask her fear.

Small arms rounds bounced off the Gatekeeper, seemingly just pissing it off. Blake, Yang and Jaune closed in to distract it, hopefully to stop it from using any of its psionic powers it had. Much to Yang’s dismay, it opened up to reveal its bizarre interior as tentacles splayed out from the ball.

A wave of psionic energy knocked them all over. Off in the distance, Yang heard otherworldly moans. That didn’t sound like any alien she knew.

“Hut hut hut hut hut hut hut!” Killip shouted as he descended the stairs with Mike and Qrow right behind him. “There it is, men! The alien Matchmaker!”

Yang didn’t have to wonder about the source of the noise for long. They shambled around the corner, groups of formerly dead alien soldiers, and disturbingly enough the fallen members of Bravo, each one slack-jawed and with a purple glow coming from their eyes.

She could scarcely hear herself think over the noise of those around her – everyone, come to think of it – muttering to themselves to figure out what the fuck they were seeing. Some tried to rationalize it as alien mind control. Ruby thought she was seeing things. Weiss believed herself to be totally delusional, while Blake kept repeating it was only a dream. Tyson could only chant in German.

_“Open fucking fire!”_ Mike shouted, snapping Yang out of her trance. The Gatekeeper seemed more interested in keeping them from the relay, firing a truly description-defying ray at them which missed most but clipped Nora, sending her to the ground. Gunshots mixed so heavily with orders it was hard to tell where one started and the other began. Now exposed and taking fire, the Gatekeeper sealed its shell shut, which allowed Ruby and Yang to pepper it with explosive Dust.

Qrow, Blake, Jaune, Ren, Ruby, Yang – all of them worked in tandem, practically slicing and beating it up as best they could and dodged its attacks – as well as supposedly “friendly” bullets – to take the Gatekeeper down. Qrow’s scythe opened up a disgusting hole, revealing its interior. As if enraged, the Gatekeeper opened up to sweep its tentacles at them, knocking each member down and delivering stinging blows that Yang was sure would have killed anyone else.

_“Blow up that relay!”_ Bradford ordered. “We have **one minute!”**

Yang turned to look at the relay, taking cover behind a convenient box. There was a clear shot to it, too. Tyson could see it as well. He looked pointedly at Yang, then to Blake. Blake returned his gaze with a fierce look in her eyes, shaking her head firmly. _“No,”_ she mouthed, but Tyson either didn’t see it or didn’t care, dropping his MG3 to lose weight and gain speed. Yang couldn’t hear Blake scream over the gunfire, but she could clearly see the agonized look on her face as he mouth opened.

“Run for cover,” Ana shouted. “That Gatekeeper’s about to blow!”

As predicted, the Gatekeeper was in self-destruct mode, collapsing to the ground and forcing them to seek cover. Yang didn’t spot any of the once-dead aliens and friendly faces it commanded, not that she really wanted to as she took cover. The Gatekeeper exploded violently, sending pieces of its armor everywhere alongside a massive shockwave that would have knocked Yang over had she been out of cover.

“Where the fuck did Tyson go?!” Blake demanded. “Where is he?!”

“I saw him go into the relay room!” Pyrrha shouted, pointing to it.

Blake broke for the room, with Yang close behind. The door was opening, but right as it did a secondary explosion, emanating from the relay room, rocked them off their feet. They sat up to look inside, spotting flames consuming the relay room. There was no sign of Tyson, or the relay.

 _“NO!”_ Blake stood up, trying to run into the inferno. Acting quickly, Yang tackled her to the floor, stopping her from killing herself.

Both of them were quickly turned around. Ana grabbed Blake’s hand, while Price latched his onto Yang’s arm and pulled her up.

“On your feet soldier,” Price yelled. “We. Are. **_Leaving!”_**

There was no time to look, Yang heard Ana say as they ran. The relay was connected to the ship’s main generator, and with it gone, a chain reaction had begun that meant the entire ship was soon going down. Explosions from deep within the ship reverberated down the halls as they made for the surface, managing to reach the platforms even as flames licked at them. Harsh sunlight blinded Yang as she ran out, assisted by Price.

Once they had gotten to a supposedly safe distance, all surviving soldiers paused, turning back to look at the destruction they had wrought upon the aliens. The alien ship was rapidly sinking, splitting in half and taking part of the platform with it. Scattered Grimm leaped off the ship to risk their chances in the sea, not tempted to interfere with XCOM.

Just ahead of her, Blake fell to her knees, sobbing. “God dammit,” she muttered. “Why the _fuck_ did you have to be the big damn hero, Tyson?”

“I’m so sorry, Blake,” Yang said, putting a hand on her friend’s shoulder. “I’m so, so sorry.”

“All he wanted was to stop fighting,” she sobbed. “We can’t even give him a proper burial now. Why the fu-” Blake gasped as she looked up, a hand flying up to her mouth.

Out of the smoke limped Tyson, clutching his side. Without a moment’s hesitation, Blake got to her feet and ran to him, almost tackling him as she wrapped her arms around him. Their transports began to arrive, allowing them to get off the alien platform and back to dry, solid land.

They had finally beaten the aliens at their own game. The aliens were not a threat to Remnant, or Earth, any longer.

* * *

There were more than a few songs written in their honor. A worldwide celebration had been declared for them, and with the destruction of the alien ship, the Atlesian military succeeded in pushing back the aliens once and for all, ending a year-long occupation of Argus. Each kingdom sent the soldiers of XCOM offers to live, work and general benefits that befitted their status as defenders of the realm. While Ozpin and the Commander conferred to seek out a method to defeat Salem, the offers slowly began to be accepted.

Ana opted to stay in Mistral, finding the people and customs amenable to her lifestyle. Price relocated alongside Mike and Killip to Vale, while Freeman headed to Vacuo, probably seeking a life as lawless as he had conducted the war. Commander Okorie and Bradford accepted offers to go to Atlas as combat instructors, blending Earth tactics with Atlesian military standards. Tygan and Shen headed to Atlas and Vale, respectively, hungry for knowledge about Remnant’s physics and engineering. O’Neill and Jackson declared they needed more time.

Of course, while the war against the aliens had ended, the war against Salem had not. Each soldier left the headquarters knowing full well that, one day, Commander Okorie would call upon their services once again. This time, it would be to prevent Remnant from being turned into Salem’s personal playground. It was a fight they knew would be coming eventually.

In Mistral, there stood a statue built to honor those who had died for XCOM and Remnant. On the base was carved the name of every soldier who had fought and died since the war began on Earth, a massive list of names and dates. RWBY and JNPR visited once, uncovering once-hidden history in the form of Ana’s daughter Fareeha Amari who had died early in the war. It was surprising to them – none of them knew Ana had a daughter, much less that she had died fighting the aliens. She had simply never mentioned it.

Weiss, Pyrrha and Yang, meanwhile, managed to find names both familiar and new. Each of them lingered over Mundy, Ludwig, Rex, Carter, and Hannah. It was hard to believe that out of everyone on board the _Avenger,_ they had been unable to see the end of the war. Tyson filled them in on other names, giving them the highest Overwatch agents – Jack Morison and Gabriel Reyes – and some of the bravest fighters they had never met, since they had passed before the three joined the _Avenger._

Perhaps more fittingly, the statue bore the likenesses of Hannah, Wu and Grün. Breaking the monotony of names and death dates was a plaque that commemorated their sacrifice of those who had died for Remnant, to the “Defenders without Fear”.

All that remained now was to head to Atlas and do everything possible to stop Salem.


End file.
